Testament
by AlienZombies
Summary: In which there is much AU, 2 is Jewish, 7 likes to skateboard, and the 9 crew are modern-age humans. Rating may go up. Made for FUN, folks. COMPLETE
1. Seven

**Testament**

The sidewalk was hot from the sun, but Five and Nine sat on it anyway. They didn't say anything for a long time, just watching the sun make its downward swing towards the horizon, slanting the shadows just slightly. A few people passed, but for the most part the park was empty except for them, the two of them. Drinking his Orange Julius, Five slumped lazily into Nine with a sigh and shucked his jacket. Nine appreciated the closeness, the comfort of his friend's lean body against his own, but didn't like the smell of pot in Five's hair, strong, recent, acrid.

"You aren't hot?" Five mumbled.

"Huh? Nah," Nine replied with an easy shrug. He didn't like to take off his hoodie even when it was hot; he felt lost when he couldn't zip and unzip the front, his favorite nervous habit. Presently, he was thirsty, wanted some of Five's Orange Julius, knew that Five would share when he asked, and yet he didn't ask. He squinted up into the sky.

"I ran into a teacher at the mall today… I forgot to tell you." Five smiled bashfully, tugged on Nine's hood as an indication of his embarrassment. "He was…"

Nine glanced at him, saw the look in that big hazel eye. He sat bolt upright. "You don't." Then, spotting an approaching figure in the distance and ignoring them for now, "Who was it?"

Smiling his timid smile, Five held up a little V-for-victory, and Nine shook his head in astonishment.

"Two? You're kidding." He shuddered at the thought of his friend mooning over _him_, of all people – it wasn't right. "But he's so… _old_."

Five lowered his gaze as if wounded, and then, sipping his drink, he mumbled, "No… he's… mature."

"M… _Mature_!" Nine laughed, and then cringed at the thought, feeling freshly ill. "Oh, God, Five… He's like, sixty! And, he's like… _Jewish_."

"He's more like fifty. And just because he wears a skull cap doesn't make him Jewish," said Five petulantly, fumbling with his drink cup.

"Does fuckin' too."

"Nine…"

Realizing that he was being a little harsh, Nine offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

The figure Nine had seen coming was a girl, and she approached the bowl now and thrust down her skateboard, taking off. Nine considered skating now, as well, but at the same time, he was endlessly curious about what sort of exchange with Two of all people would get Five all flustered and twitterpated.

"What did he say to you, anyway?" Nine asked, scratching at some dirt on his shoe.

Five tugged uneasily at his eyepatch. It was probably getting uncomfortable in the heat. "Nothing, just that he was making this telescope… Oh, God, Nine, it's just the neatest thing. And he asked me to help. I'm so excited."

"You and your inventions," Nine muttered, but he couldn't stop himself smiling affectionately. "You know 'building a telescope' is just code for 'getting in your pants.'" He nudged Five playfully to show that there were no hard feelings, but Five had the presence to look mortified anyway.

"I'd bet he'd let you help, if you wanted to…" Five said, though from his tone it was clear that he secretly didn't want Nine around – not that it was a warning tone, or anything, more of an obligatory invitation, because Five did care about his friend, after all, and would give up some one-on-one with his crush to make Nine happy.

Appreciating the gesture and deciding to return the favor, Nine smiled. "No, it's all right, go ahead and have fun. Take pictures when you start making headway. And can I see the stars, when you're all done?"

"I'd like that," Five said, and smiled.

The girl on the skateboard wiped out, scraping up her elbows. She didn't cry at all, though, just stood back up and dusted herself off and got right back on her board. Nine looked her over thoughtfully – a curvy girl, really… not in the boob department (that was strictly B-cup material), but her hips were a mile wide. Her legs and arms were muscular and lean, scarred just about everywhere from various scrapes. Her skin was pale, her hair blond. Most of her shape was lost under a baggy tank top and an equally enormous pair of cargo shorts. A giant belt sat on the natural curve of her hips like an equator.

… She was probably a dyke.

Bored, Nine looked back to Five, who was frowning into the open mouth of his cup.

"All of the ice melted," he commented sadly.

"Sorry, man."

Five just sighed. Glancing up, he saw the girl barreling towards them, let out one of his yelping screams and crowded close to Nine. She stopped just short of them, though, and cocked her head.

"Hey. What are you doing sitting around? You've got boards."

"Depth perception problems," Nine said, grinning and thumbing towards Five, who was hanging onto Nine's arm in a death-grip.

"Nice eye patch," the girl said. Her smile was benevolent. She had earrings that dangled and swung when she moved her head. Maybe she wasn't a dyke.

"Th-Thank you?"

Sighing, she picked up her board and thrust it under her arm, sticking out a hand to shake. She had a black wristband with a rock band's logo stamped on it, and band-aids on three of her fingers. Her nails were unpainted and stubby, chewed down to the quick, like Nine's. "I'm Seven. Nice to meet you."

Nine shook immediately, smiling. "Nine. This is Five."

"I'm Five," Five echoed, and shook her hand, too. He sometimes forgot to introduce himself.

"Well, hi there, Nine and Five." She planted her hands on her hips and looked between them thoughtfully. "Just out of curiosity, are you two…?"

"Huh?" said Five.

"What!? God, no!" said Nine.

They looked at each other, and comprehension dawned with a tint of horror on Five's face.

"No! Oh, no! God, no!" Five blurted, and his face turned red.

Seven threw her head back and laughed. When she was done, she set down her skateboard and got up on it, looking down at them through her eyeliner-rimmed eyes. "Well, come on, you pansies, are you skating or what?"

She took off without them and Nine, not about to back down from a challenge, got up, pulling Five with him.

"Let's do it," he said.

"We're not," Five mumbled, still blushing furiously. He dropped his cup and some diluted orange liquid seeped onto the pavement. "We're not."

--

Five was handsome guy, really. He wasn't like, movie star handsome… just basic handsome. He had a strong jaw, a kind of blunt chin that made his face look rounder than it really was, full cheekbones, and a wide, sweeping, expressive mouth. His creamy cheeks were dusted with freckles, and he had a tendency to burn in the sun. His hair looked red most of the time, but was actually more brown than anything, and it was wavy and sometimes kind of crazy and when they spent the night at each other's houses, slumped over each other in a chair, falling asleep, Nine liked to run his hands through it.

He used to have two eyes, before he started smoking the joints. They were punctuated by two small, curved eyebrows, which usually registered "surprised" somehow – it was the wide-eyed curiosity that made it so, and their natural shape. Before the drugs, his hazel eyes used to be so bright and clear. Now, the one that remained had dark bags under it most of the time, and his gaze was usually more pensive, cloudy, downcast.

Five liked buttoned-down shirts. Presently they were shopping for them. Five kept stopping every two seconds to remember what he was saying. He was high off of his mind. Nine didn't care, so much. He was glad he could be with Five to keep him out of trouble.

"You got to tell Eight to stop selling you this stuff."

"I know, I guess I'm getting kind of stuck on it." Five threw Nine one of his shy little smiles, and a bit of him showed through the mask.

It was Wednesday, and even though it was summer, the mall was relatively quiet. Between shirts, Five would munch on a giant pretzel Nine had given him to get him to shut up about his munchies. Five wasn't a complainer in nature, no – but when he was doped up, he sometimes forgot he had said something, and would continue to say it over and over. Usually it was "I'm hungry" because this subject cropped up a lot. A lot.

It was a wonder he was so skinny, really. Not skinner than Nine, but close. He had too broad of shoulders to ever be quite as thin as Nine.

"Do you really need a new shirt?" Nine asked, feeling kind of bored of listening to Michael Jackson and Cher over the stereo system. He zipped and unzipped his hoodie. Zip, unzip.

"… We were looking for a shirt?" Five frowned. "Huh."

"What was that thing you needed for that camera you were building?" Nine asked, not quite losing his patience.

"Copper wire. Cheap stuff. We can get it at the hardware store. I'm hungry."

Nine gestured to the pretzel, which Five bit into, and then that wet, hurt expression came over his face.

"What would I do without you, Nine?" he said quietly, and Nine felt distinctly uncomfortable. "Why didn't you tell me I was…?"

"It's all right. Don't worry about it."

They tried to skate home, and Nine lost his balance, landed on his face and made his nose bleed. They didn't buy any shirts.

--

Around 10:00, Six called up Nine and Five and invited them over. He had parents, somewhere, but they were never home. Like, literally never. Sometimes there were signs that they had been there – empty food cups, bills lying around, a pair of his father's sneakers. He told stories about them, sometimes, but Nine had only seen them once at Six's birthday party, and now their faces just seemed blotchy, vague, blurry… unreal. They were shadow-people.

Maybe that explained why Six was so weird. Really, Five and Nine didn't mind him, but sometimes he even got a little funky even for them. He had written 666 on all of his shirts, which were all, weirdly, striped. Most of the things in his house were colorless or tinted blue. His drawings hung all over the walls.

When they got there, he smiled nervously and thrust soda into their hands. Nine tasted it and, finding it wasn't spiked, drank it willingly. Some screamo band was going in his bedroom, but he went and turned it off. The air smelled like cigarettes, but Nine never saw anybody smoking them. Maybe it was incense, or something.

"I got some movies," Six said in that soft voice of his. He fidgeted before he pushed them across the floor towards Nine and Five. He had chairs, but they almost never used them.

"Hey, cool," said Nine, smiling.

Their choices were typical of Six's parties. _Super Zombie Bloodbath, Attack of the Shrieking Slug-Men, _and, of course, their favorite, _Ninjas Versus Vampires in Amityville III: Bloody Gut-Jitsu_.

Nine couldn't remember what they had watched, after they watched it. Six and Five both fell asleep in his lap, and after his third soda, he really had to pee, but didn't have the heart to move them. He fell asleep soon after that.

--

He woke up when the twins texted him, when his phone blasted its designated ringtone, which Five had set to Barbie Girl as a practical joke. They did it at the same time, having coordinated it, because they got a kick out of waking Nine up at 5:00 in the morning.

Three said: WHATEVER FOUR SAYS IS A LIE!

Four said: THREE IS TELLING THE TRUTH!

They thought they were clever. Nine appreciated the humor anyway.

Five, being a heavy sleeper, was making a puddle of drool on Nine's crotch, and Nine still had to pee. Six was nowhere in sight.

-- **to be continued?**

Notes: I dunno, it was an idea that came to me. It's a lot harder to keep characters... well, in-character when they're in a different universe. Obviously, I've screwed with A LOT of stuff, so I'm not sure if that will make it undesirable to you guys. I did try to incorperate a few elements from the original universe to the story - if you notice, the settings are all lacking people, for example.

I don't know. It could be fun. I'll leave it up to your feedback to let me know if I should continue or not. This would NOT eclipse Water, but would rather be a side-project.


	2. Double

**Testament**

Five showed up on Nine's doorstep two days later with a split lip. He had a worried expression on his face, but the only sign that he was really upset was the shine of unshed tears in his eye. Without speaking, Nine wrapped his arms tightly around him, and for a full, long minute they stood there in the street, holding each other. Then Five began to hiccup, and there was no helping it; Nine drew him inside, and closed the door, sitting him down at the kitchen table and getting him a glass of milk. Five had a thing for milk, and Nine didn't – really, he kept the stuff around for Five.

"Thanks," Five mumbled, tried for a smile and failed miserably. He gulped the milk and Nine sat patiently on the table beside him, waiting. When the stuff had been drained, Five set the glass down heavily and wiped the mustache away. "You always know what to do."

Nine didn't think so. He rarely knew what to do, ever. Five was predictable, easy to plan for, had specific habits, and Nine could handle that. But aside from that, he was a good guesser, which often led to success even when he wasn't planning for it.

"Some kid make fun of your eye?" Nine asked.

"No," Five said, scowling into the empty cup. "Dad."

There wasn't much to say to that. In an attempt to be reassuring, Nine reached out and ruffled Five's hair. "Hey. He's a bastard."

"Didn't expect him to be home."

"Hmm. Well, think happy thoughts about Two and his skull cap, all right?"

It was quiet. Five didn't laugh. After a few minutes without words, he sighed and took off his eye patch, slapping it on the table as if it had offended him. Every time, Nine wanted to look away, and yet he couldn't – that bald, slightly shiny patch where his pretty eye had once been, that scar tissue, indented slightly, where it had once been such a bloody void, Nine remembered, remembered what it had been like. He was sure that Five dreamed about it often, stared at it in the mirror and hated it.

It had all been a stupid, stupid mistake.

"Five…"

"Nine, just…" Five leaned sideways, as if pulled by gravity, and rested his cheek against the meat of Nine's thigh. His skin was burning. Nine gently ran his fingers through Five's hair as he shuddered, and then whimpered, and then was quiet and asleep.

Sighing, Nine sat patiently and let his mind drift while his friend recovered. He thought of that girl at the skate park – Seven, right? Yes, right. He thought about her two-toned pixie cut, her sturdy stance, her Converse-clad feet. Her face had been sharp and pointed, kind of bird-like, but pretty, he thought. He wondered if she was new in town, or if he just hadn't seen her around before. He wondered if she went to school at all.

In his sleep, Five mumbled a little. He was a drooler, too, and Nine's leg was beginning to feel distinctly soggy, though he had stopped caring about that ages ago. Besides, Nine had his own insomnia problems, and sleepwalking problems, and nightmare problems…

That was a commonality between them. They had nightmares.

After about an hour, Nine's legs fell asleep, and the twins came crawling in through a second-story window and clattering around upstairs. He supposed that once they discovered he wasn't there, they went about ransacking his things, like usual. They were too curious for their own good.

After they had found nothing too worthy of their attention, they came down and froze when they saw Nine and Five together. They got identical looks of surprises on their faces, and then something more knowing and mischievous. They liked to pretend that Five and Nine were together despite the fact that Nine was straight as an arrow and Five didn't like Nine that way, anyway.

Nine put a finger to his lips to shush them, mostly out of sarcasm, because the twins never spoke.

He couldn't remember exactly why this was. He remembered something about them telling him that they had sworn off of speaking to make a statement about something, or something… Or that they had been in a car crash – no, maybe it had been an illness? – and lost their voices… Or that it was a birth defect, or something… Whatever the reason, they could hear just fine, and spoke to each other through a bastardized sign language Nine couldn't understand. Five had taken ASL class Sophomore year, and he said that they used a lot of invented symbols, but he understood them for the most part.

The twins rolled their eyes and crowded together before they began to ransack Nine's kitchen. People always showed up at his house hungry. Three got some Mac N' Cheese and Four got orange juice and some Skittles, and they sat on the counter across from Five and Nine and stared at them owlishly. Their eyes were huge and blue, all in a perfect row.

Although they were only a year younger than Nine, they looked so young. It was their round faces, probably, their little pointed chins, their cupid's-bow lips… and those huge, blinking eyes. They were short, too, probably barely five feet tall. Five always liked to joke that they were the tallest out of everybody, if they stood on each other's shoulders.

After a moment of intense staring, Four whipped out their sticky note pad from the depths of his powder-blue hoodie and scribbled out a note before handing it over. "_What's going on with Five now_?"

Shrugging, Nine started running his fingers through Five's hair again. Five let out a soft, contented sigh. "I don't know… His dad, I think."

"_We saw his lip_," wrote Three.

"Knowing Five, he might have run into a doorknob," Nine deadpanned, and smiled, even though they knew that wasn't true.

Three ate his Mac N' Cheese noisily while Four scribbled another note. After a minute, Three scowled, nudging Four, and shook his head, stealing the pencil away and scratching out something, then writing… Four shook his head and nudged back, scratching out that change, and then they were signing angrily at each other.

Nine waited, but that message never made it. Four scrapped it angrily, chucked the sticky note at Three's face at close range; it struck and bounced off of his forehead, and Three scowled at him, reached out and pinched his nose meanly, and then they hugged in reconciliation. They fought often, Nine thought, but they always made up.

Five stirred, made a quiet sound, but didn't wake. They all looked at him for a moment before Three started writing another message.

"_Another party at Six's tonight._"

Four wrote: "_Sorry for missing out yesterday, Auntie wanted to watch the Ghost Whisperer marathon_."

Three shuddered and rolled his eyes heavenward to express his disgust with the show.

"If Five will come, I'll come," Nine said.

The twins exchanged a wry look, as if to say, "_Of course_." Nine didn't have the energy to feel annoyed.

After a few more minutes, Five woke up hungry, and Three donated his Mac N' Cheese to the cause.

"When'd you get here?" he asked around his mouthful of cheesy goodness, and the twins shrugged.

"About a half hour," Nine supplied. He pushed Five's eye patch towards him, and he put it on with a wordless nod of thanks. "They say Six is having another party. You coming?"

"Sure."

They smiled at each other, and Nine zipped and unzipped his hoodie mindlessly. "Want to go and skateboard before the weather turns bad?"

"All right," Five said.

The twins had no objections, so they went.

--

When they showed up at the park, they found Seven there. She wasn't doing much, mostly just jerking around, a couple of flimsy ollies here and there. Sometimes she'd stop by a chunky messenger bag sitting out on the grass and guzzle some energy drink from a neon green can. She had a fresh scrape all down her shin, but she was ignoring it.

The twins didn't skateboard, but they had roller skates, and they took off like jets the minute they hit the sidewalk. Five went to have a smoke, saw Nine watching him, and decided against it.

For a while, the group and Seven avoided each other, just kind of revolving like separate planets, but when the twins misjudged their directions and collided with each other, and she began to laugh, they became a single unit in the otherwise abandoned park.

Four scuffed his elbow and sat sulkily on the edge of the bowl as Five checked it. His mom was a nurse and he could tend to a lot of things. It had saved Nine numerous trips to the doctor for things like broken noses and sprained wrists and deep cuts. He was funny, though, when he was checking something out like that. His mouth pulled to the side and he scowled, deeply focused, his lips pursed together until they were white.

Normally, scrapes while skating were no big deal, but Three had freaked _out_, so it was the least they could do to look at it.

"Just got a little bit of dust in it. It's shallow. It'll scab over. Get some Neosporin on it when you get to Six's house."

"Neosporin is the answer to everything," Seven said with a lopsided grin, her hands stuffed in her pockets. "Why is the sky blue? Neosporin."

Nine guffawed, and then shut up when Five and Three, defensive of his brother, frowned at him.

Seven popped a mint. Nine watched her from the corner of his eye, wondered what flavor it was. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for Four to pick himself back up.

"Didn't mean to make fun of you, little guy," Seven said to Four as he passed, and he smiled at her; Three, picking up on his brother's feelings, grinned, too, and then they were hugging her, the horny _bastards_, and Seven laughed her throaty, gorgeous laugh and pushed back their hoods to ruffle their dirty blond hair. Subtly, Three began to pick her pockets, found the mints and took one. She didn't seem to mind.

"You guys can't just keep hugging people out of the blue," Five said, though there was laughter in his voice. "You're cute, but when you're thirty people are going to start thinking it's creepy."

They ignored him.

They skated and lollygagged until the sun began to set and a dusty orange glow fell over everything. Seven wanted to keep doing, and Three was pushing Four around more or less, still having some energy left. Five had tried to grind and completely bailed out, and now he was lying out in the grass, asleep.

"You new here?" Nine asked, catching up to Seven. She tripped him up on purpose, and he laughed lightly. On the horizon, he saw the storm clouds rolling in, estimated they had another half hour tops.

"Me? Nah. Lived on the other side of the city for a while. Pop decided to quit renting an apartment and buy a house over here."

"Huh." Nine didn't know what to say to that.

"Yeah. Transferred schools and everything. Maybe I'll see you this year."

"Yeah. Maybe. You taking Calc?"

"Advanced Calc, yeah. Actually kind of easy stuff, but I love math."

Shit, so she was a smart girl as well as the Dyke from Down Under. Nine was beginning to suspect she wasn't actually a lesbian, but it was the only thing that seemed to fit her right now for him.

As Nine grew silent for too long, Seven got bored, threw him a smile and was gone again. There was a clatter as the twins collapsed where they stood, like felled statues, and they slumped together in exhaustion. They would need to be leaving… like now.

"Hey, Seven…"

She looked at him, smiled a little to show that she was listening.

"My friend Six is throwing a party. No booze or anything, I mean… mostly just cheesy horror movies, if you want to come."

She shrugged, stuffing her hands in her pockets again and looking at the surrounding landscape without any apparent interest. She was thinking, probably. "Sure," she said. "Yeah, okay. I'll come."

While she was trying to rouse the twins by doing jumps over them and poking their cheeks and making playful farting noises, Nine went to go wake up Five, who was sprawled out in the grass as if he had been dropped from a hundred feet above and had died there.

"Hey." Nine stood over him and then plopped down, straddling him to stop himself putting too much weight on him, but enough to make his friend grunt anyway. "Wake up."

Five moaned, covering his face with his hands. "Sleep."

"Nah, come on, Six is waiting for us." A pause as Nine ruffled Five's hair. It was as it had been before, unmessed, because Five slept like a rock. "You don't want to break a promise, do you?"

"Are you bringing Super Dyke?" It was their invented nickname for her.

"Yeah, I guess. Do you mind?"

Five looked up at him silently for a long time. His eye seemed to shine. After a while, feeling awkward, Nine climbed off of him, and they started the trek to Six's house without a word, the twins darting back and forth behind them, and Seven bringing up the quiet, ambling rear.

-- **to be continued**

Aww, guys, thanks so much for your positive feedback! I will definitely be continuing this, then, probably updating between every one or two Water updates, as inspiration strikes. Characterization of the 9 crew is my favorite thing, so please don't hesitate to call me out (or compliment me...) if I do something far out. Thanks again!


	3. Tofu

**Testament**

Six was excited to see them, grinned broadly until he saw Seven, and then he recoiled, looking almost fearful. He looked at Nine worriedly, and Nine offered him a reassuring smile, ruffling those dark, springy locks almost habitually. "Don't worry, that's Seven, she's cool."

Although Six didn't complain, he avoided eye contact with Seven, and hovered as closely as possible to Five, who he had known the longest and trusted the most. He stammered when he spoke, if he spoke at all. He didn't do well with strangers. In the end, when they settled down to watch _The Fang-Beasts from Outer Space_, Six was piled into Five's lap, and Five was smushed against Nine, and Nine was sitting uncomfortably close to Seven, who had a twin on either leg.

They were such whores, the twins. They knew JUST what they were doing. Just because Seven had a juicy behind didn't mean they had to be all over her like that. Then again, they were all over everyone all of the time anyway.

Although she didn't talk much the rest of the time, Seven liked to talk during movies. Little things like, "Where does that dumb bitch think she's going?" and "I saw the boom-mike shadow in the last frame." It was kind of funny, and made Six freak out less than he would have. He kept glancing at her and smiling, which was a good sign, though he was probably mostly just surprised that there was a female in his house. The exposure to estrogen must have been extreme for him, since he was usually introduced to such small dosages at once.

Five, Six, and the twins passed out somewhere around the final credits. Nine, the only person without people in his lap, got up and turned off the movie and let the nighttime cable stations have their run, not tired yet, sitting down beside Seven again, who looked like she could stay up all night. She looked at him, and smiled, and then looked past him at Five and Six coiled around each other, and grinned.

"Aww, that's sweet."

Nine looked, felt faintly amused. "They're both cuddlers in their sleep," he said with a shrug. "Five especially so. Even when he's awake."

"Yeah, I see the way he hangs on you. Doesn't bug you?"

"Nah. I barely notice." Nine raised an eyebrow at her. "Why, does it bug you?"

"No, I love it. I mean, I'm not a big hug person, myself, but I like to _be_ hugged."

Nine didn't know what to make of that, so he didn't say anything. He glanced down at the twins, wrapped around her middle like a human-shaped belt, their faces burrowed into the natural curve of her waist, their legs tangled about her own. She looked so motherly, despite the eyeliner and black-tipped hair.

"You're a little cliché, aren't you?" Nine said with a grin.

"So are you," she shot back with a bemused smile on her face. "I don't get what you mean."

"Never mind."

She looked as if she wanted to know, but she let the subject drop, instead lifting her chin in Six's direction to indicate him. "What's bothering him?"

"Oh, he's just like that. A little odd. He's a good kid, though. Just sometimes doesn't make any sense."

In the semi-blue light of the television, Five's skin seemed extra-pale against Six's. Six was mocha, it was true… but he usually had an ashy tone about him, from not going out much, from his anemia, and just from his anxiousness, too.

Nine started to chuckle a little, and Seven looked at him with a patient look that told him that she was curious but not going to press for answers. When he collected himself, he explained. "They wanted to join archery club. Haha! With Five's depth perception, and… haha!"

She smiled, and then laughed quietly, too. "You tease him a lot," she said, not judgmentally.

Shrugging, Nine frowned. "I don't know. It's his own fault for the eye. I mean… I pretty much look after him, he's my best friend. And whenever I turn my back…" He sighed. "It's all in fun, I mean… I would never laugh at him to be mean."

"No, I can see that. I can tell you care about him a lot." She nodded, smiling tiredly, stroking the hair of the twins, who smiled in their sleep. "You seem like you're a good friend."

Nine smiled modestly. He'd never been able to take compliments well.

He wasn't sure when exactly he fell asleep, but when he opened his eyes it was light outside, and everyone was sitting around eating tofu and bananas with toast. Six was a vegetarian, and they all complied to his lifestyle when they visited. When asked, Seven informed them that she was a vegetarian also, and a huge fan of peanuts.

Eating a banana, Nine saw Five watching him and smiled. Because of Six, his hair was wild, sticking up in so many different directions. He truly looked like a madman.

"Your hair," Nine said, grinning.

Five smiled back shyly. "Leave me alone."

The twins were furiously signing at each other over something, their banana slices and toast left untouched. Seven was watching them thoughtfully, her head slightly tilted.

"I just thought they were quiet and secretive, but I guess it's more than that," she said, and they whipped around to look at her, raising their eyebrows. Four signed something rude as Three simultaneously tried to sign something kind, and they spotted each other and scowled some more.

"Why are you guys fighting so early in the morning?" Five asked through his tofu, ever the peacemaker. He had a habit of speaking with his mouth full.

They promptly made up, until Three licked Four's cheek to be annoying, and then they were wrestling on the floor. Seven grinned and cheered them on.

"Kick his ass! Go on!"

When they were like this, it was impossible to tell them apart. True, they were identical twins, but Four had more of a proud presence about him, hugged people more, and Three was slightly more greedy, and wore a locket around his neck. Five eventually got them apart, and this time they made up genuinely, snuggling and squirming until they were a singular mass.

"We could watch a-another movie if you w-want," Six whispered from the corner once it had gone completely silent again. "My parents won't be home today."

"Sure," Nine said, and everyone naturally voted in agreement. It was strange, how no one really had parents who would care to be called. Well, the twins did have to text their auntie, who would panic if they were missing for too long.

They watched something called _Death Squad_, which involved a lot of bloody cheerleaders and seemed to amuse Seven to death. The twins seemed most distracted by the amount of tits on screen, though Five, being adorable, pulled a face every time, mostly to make Nine laugh. He was gayer than Elton John sometimes, and he knew it.

About halfway through, Seven had an outburst. "That's not even karate! What IS that? That's called flailing."

"I can't tell the difference," Nine said with a shrug.

"I'm trained in four different martial arts styles," Seven said, and now _everyone_ stopped to look at her. She raised an eyebrow, as if confused by the scrutiny.

"Sports?" That was Six, speaking so timidly from behind Five that for a minute Nine wasn't sure who had spoken.

"Huh? Oh sure. Track and soccer and powderpuff football. Tried volleyball and softball, but they're too girly, really boring, not enough action. Sometimes there's nothing you can do but stand there and wait for the ball to come your way. I hate that."

The twins were gaping. Nine had expected as much, and was smiling inexplicably. Five looked at Nine for a minute, and then frowned.

"What martial arts styles?" he asked, as some brunette on the TV ran screaming, naked and bloody through the woods.

Seven leaned back and popped a mint. "Karate, T'ai Chi Quan, Taekwondo, and Muay Thai."

"Cool," Nine said. "You should teach me." He had a thirst for knowledge, an intense one, a constant curiosity – but rarely the means to pay for it. So if he could enlist a friend to help him, it was ideal.

"Not qualified to teach… but okay." She grinned at him good-naturedly, and Nine could feel Five's hard stare burning through him.

They were quiet through the rest of the movie. Seven's neutral reactions to the naked cheerleaders made Nine begin to seriously doubt her lesbianism, which was a good thing, he supposed – for him, anyway. He wondered if she would, if he asked… but no. She was probably secretly crazy, or something. Nobody was so perfect.

Seven had to leave once the movie was over for Portuguese class – no, I'm not fucking with you. Her schedule must have been really intense all of the time, Nine thought. She seemed to have so much going on. She could already speak pretty damn fluent Mandarin, which Five challenged with his own background in French, and Nine had just about laughed until he cried hearing them fire back and forth in their respective language, though they couldn't understand each other.

"I bet Two will teach you Hebrew, if you asked," Nine said sarcastically, and Five punched him in the arm gently.

"You're such a bigot."

Nine ignored him, watching Six doodling in his sketchbook with the twins hovering over his shoulder. "Speaking of which, when are you going to start on that telescope thing you were talking about?"

"Next Sunday. You like her, don't you?"

The question came out from so far out of left field that Nine was surprised into silence. "Uh?" he said stupidly, and Five wasn't looking at him, was playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Don't you? You want to… I saw it."

"I don't know. I mean, she has a nice ass, and she's smart and everything."

Five made a soft, thoughtful sound, and was silent.

"Well," Nine blurted, "it's not like _you_ don't want to sleep with some old guy, anyway."

Five's eye shut, as if he had been dealt a physical blow, but still he didn't speak. He sucked on his lower lip like he did when he was thinking, and played with his button over and over.

For some reason he couldn't place, Nine felt guilty, and cruel.

--

It was a little-known fact, but Five had a little streak of pyromania in him. Half of the reason he got high was because he liked to play with his lighter. For his birthday, Nine always got him a lighter and some candy corn, because Five loved both very much. Obviously, it wasn't all Nine got him, but those were prerequisites, so much so that when his birthday approached Five would deliberately refrain from buying a new lighter because he knew another was coming.

Once, when he was fourteen, he burned down the shed in his backyard. Set it up in flames. Huge fire, huge smoke, swallowed everything in a twenty foot radius. Gone. Just brownness, dryness, ash, nothing else. The tree that had been there since before his father was born, the one that Five and Nine used to climb in and eat sandwiches in and play pirates in, went up in flames. A passing squirrel met its doom. His mother's flower-bed, consumed. Their cute little hammock with pink flowers on it, evaporated.

All because of that stupid mistake, playing with matches.

Five had cried and cried for days over it. He had been black and blue all over for it. He almost never left Nine's side for months afterwards, though after a while he forgot quite why. That was before the party… before his eye.

Nine remembered lying in his bed, staring up at his Metallica poster (he didn't like Metallica, actually, Six gave it to him, had drawn it himself), with Five draped over him, warm, surprisingly heavy for someone so very thin, asleep, whimpering for his dreams. The way his mother stopped and frowned at them as she passed through the hallway, and shook her head. But Five needed him. It was something no one else could understand.

Now, skating alongside Five in silence, he felt like a failure.

"Can I stay at your house?" Five asked quietly. He didn't need to say anything else. Nine understood every reason. It came back to the split lip, but it was more than even that.

"Of course you can. Of course."

Five made a choked sound, but he was smiling, and Nine half-expected him to start to cry, but he only pushed on down the avenue.

-- **to be continued**

Thanks so much for your feedback, guys. It gets me excited to turn out chapters faster for all of my fics. Honest, don't be afraid to tell me what you think, that's half the fun! So please let me know what you're thinking. Thanks! :D


	4. People

**Testament**

Once when they were in Junior year, just before Five started weed – like, a week before – Nine caught Five doing his manly business in the bathtub to a picture of (Nine thought, anyway, he didn't exactly check) somebody who looked like Orlando Bloom. It had been awkward times for all. Of course, by then, Nine had known about Five's whole preference for the sausage, but it hadn't made the incident any less strange.

"I thought you'd hurt yourself," Nine had said, his face burning, facing the corner as Five rushed to fix himself back together.

"I almost nearly did," Five had joked, and Nine had laughed a high, nervous laugh, and then they had gone out skating, and they forgot the whole thing.

Until now.

And this was because the following events occurred, in this order, without extrapolation:

Five got a wheel stuck in the gap between a lawn and a sidewalk and went flying directly into a patch of mud. He thusly was covered in head to toe in brown muck, and complained about it all of the way home. Nine, being the good friend he was, suggested that Five take a shower while Nine stuck his clothes in the washing machine. Five did so… and that was forty-five minutes ago.

Five was a speedy showerer to begin with, didn't like to stay in for very long unless he started to sing, but right now he was being very, very quiet. Nine sat in his room adjacent to the bathroom and began to feel kind of awkward. He knew that Five was still alive, because occasionally there would be a choked sound, like a cry, and sometimes the clatter of the shampoo-bottle wonderland his mother had collected.

It was all well and good that Five wanted some funtime in the shower – Nine was guilty of it himself – but for God's sake… forty five minutes! This whole thing should have been over after ten minutes, and that was like, tops. Even for Five, the sensitive bastard.

After forty-five minutes turned into fifty, and then fifty-five, Nine gave up waiting and knocked on the bathroom door. "Man? You all right in there?"

There was a sound, like a hiccup, and a muffled, husky reply: "Fine."

"Finish it up, won't you?"

A long silence, then, in a fractured, wavering sort of way that didn't quite seem right, Five said, "Yes, okay."

It occurred to Nine then, and his hand went to the doorknob unbidden. "Five, are you… Are you crying?"

"No!"

"I'm coming in."

"No, don't, I'm in the shower, all right?" Something fell on the floor with a clatter.

"That water must be fucking freezing by now, man, don't pretend." Nine nudged the door open and peeked, found the jean-clad leg of Five and opened the door completely.

Five, fully dressed, was slumped against the wall. He saw Nine coming and put his face in his arms, pulling his knees to his chest until he was curled into a tight ball. "Don't look, go away."

Without speaking, Nine knelt beside him and drew him up into a crushing hug. For a long minute, Five was tense against him, and then he crumbled, melted, and hung onto Nine with everything he had. His shoulders trembled, but otherwise the tears were unobtrusive, silent, wet. Nine petted his hair, noticed that the eye patch was missing. Five had probably taken it off to shower.

After a little while, Five began to stammer and blubber, and Nine held him tighter, shook his head. "Don't talk, you don't have to talk about it. It's okay."

"B-But you, you…"

"I know… It's okay."

It was usually this way. Nine usually had to come around and pick Five from the ashes. But whenever Nine hit that rock bottom, and he did hit it _hard_, Five was always there. Sometimes, in the face of Five's strength, Nine felt like the weaker one.

Five was quiet then, except for the low, constant whimper. For a while, it seemed he was saying, "Nine…" over and over again, but then it was obscured and muffled. The heat from Five's body burned through Nine's core, sunk completely though him like a bullet.

--

Nine, Five, and the twins went to the mall on Sunday for fruit smoothies and to heckle the elderly. Six was too nervous around public places to come, so he texted them every so often about some disease wiping out an entire city on some television show he was watching on the Sci Fi channel. He mostly complained about unreal it was.

It was pretty busy in the food court, even for a Saturday, so no one noticed Eight coming until he was sitting down at their table. He startled Four so badly he squirted peach-flavored ice everywhere, and Five cried out in disgust as it splattered over his hand.

"Hey, chumps," Eight said in his low, rumbling voice. He reeked of grass. He pointed his powerful, jutting chin in Five's direction (_careful or you'll poke an eye out_, Nine thought bitterly). "Hey, faggot."

"Shut up," Five muttered, eye downcast. He sipped his strawberry-banana smoothie dejectedly.

"Well, it's true, ain't it? How come you I haven't seen you around lately, faggy?"

Five didn't say anything. He held his drink in both hands as if it was helping keep him grounded, and his knee brushed Nine's accidentally as he shifted just a little bit closer out of nervousness.

Eight leered slightly over the table. He was a big guy – really big. His letterman jacket (which he had purchased, not earned, having been kicked off of the football team for flunking out his senior year) strained over his meaty shoulders. When he hit thirty, he'd probably start to get fat, and then really fat, and then he would probably die of heart disease. He had a strong nose, although it was kind of crushed inwards, as if his face had been smooshed against the wall as a baby. His eyes were piercing and gray, and fixed on Nine now from across the table. He elbowed Three roughly, and Four scowled in warning.

"Hey, faggy junior."

"Hi, Eight." Nine struggled to keep his voice neutral. He could fight, if he wanted to, but if he fought Eight he would probably lose.

"Trying to get your little boyfriend to quit?"

"You're being kind of chatty. Usually all you do is grunt."

Eight looked temporarily confused. He wasn't a stupid guy… but he wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, either. Then he scowled, and looked back to Five, ignoring Nine completely. "So are you gonna pay me or not?"

Five made a quiet noise in the back of his throat. "I don't have any money."

"Bullshit."

"I-I don't… D-Dad cut off my account…"

Eight sighed, and sat back in his chair, which creaked dangerously under his weight. For a split second, a troubled look came over his features, and then it was gone. "I don't want to push you, man – but I've got to pay for my own life, too, you know the auto shop don't do it." Then, seeming to realize the gentle tone he had adopted, he slammed a fist on the table. "So you'd best have my money by Thursday, you hear, faggot?"

Five hunched his shoulders and kept his eye fixed on his smoothie.

For a long while, not quite ready to leave, Eight just stared him down, and then glowered at the twins for good measure (they clustered closer together until they were almost a singular blue blob), and then he got up, rattling the table, and was gone.

"Well, that was pleasant," muttered Nine, sipping his pineapple.

"He's going to text me non-stop now," Five said miserably. He glanced up at Nine, and his expression began to set. "He can't make me do anything."

"That's right."

Except he could. They both knew that he could.

The twins were off-put, and eventually Five hugged the nearest one to settle him, and then they all finished their smoothies in silence.

Four slapped a sticky-note on the table. "_Six's sounding like he skipped his meds_."

Three nodded and quickly scribbled an add-on: "_He keeps texting me about exploding grapes_."

It would have been funny if this wasn't a legitimate problem. Six was stubborn as well as forgetful about his medication and if left alone for too long, he simply wouldn't take it. Usually his mom stopped by often enough to force-feed it to him, or one of his friends would, but they hadn't seen him since Friday.

When Six didn't get his medication, his thoughts got scattered, random, and sometimes obscure or violent. His communication was… unintelligible. And often he was downright frightening. He drew and finger painted constantly, and once he got carpel tunnel from it – _carpel tunnel_. The drawings never made any sense anyway, he was a "non-objective" artist, whatever that meant. But something about them seemed darker, drippier, less coherent when he was without his medication. Once, he had gotten the kitchen knife when his parents were gone for a week, oh God… He had stayed with the twins for three days after that.

"We've got to go see him," Five said, and Nine nodded.

In a single movement, they were standing, and heading towards the entrance of the mall. One of the twins wiped out, bumping into someone, and there was a brief scuffle.

"Oh, God, are you all right? I'm sorry! Let me help you."

Four was in a panic, but Nine recognized the voice. He turned and saw first the blue-rimmed cap, the curly mess of gray-brown hair.

"Mr. Two!"

Two glanced up and flashed Nine and Five a small smile. "Hi, kiddoes." He heaved Three to his feet, dusting him off. "You all right, honeybuns?"

_Honeybuns_? Nine thought. It was no secret that Two was a kindly guy who liked to give people sugary nicknames, but _still_, it was creepy.

Three, being gathered up into his brother's arms, nodded and worked up a smile to affirm his survival.

"Oh, good," said Two with a definite note or relief, bending awkwardly to pick up his cane. He had sustained an injury in a motorcylc accident as a student, and although he was relatively young (for a geezer), he had trouble walking. "My vision isn't what it once was, you know." Then, he seemed to register Five's presence, and he turned on a saccharine grin that made Five shiver beside Nine.

Faintly, his breath seemed to catch, and when he spoke, his voice was an octave lower than usual. "Hi, Two."

Nine rolled his eyes skyward.

"Well, hello, Five. Still up for that telescope?"

Five's eagerness was apparent. His breathing was speedy like that of a schoolgirl staring at a picture of Brad Pitt. "Oh, yes! I'll be there."

Two kept fiddling with his bow tie. Nine didn't know they even still _made_ bow ties. Only old people and Republicans wore bow ties, he thought grumpily. All right, so Two's eyes _were_ kind of sexy – green and deep and kind and, above all, intelligent. And he _did_ have a kind of attractive face, even if it was a little wrinkly around the eyes and mouth. His teeth were straight and white. His nose was kind of prominent, straight down the bridge, and his lips were full and smiling. But he was pale, and getting kind of scrawny. Plus, he always smelled like cinnamon and dust, and his hands were unsteady, and he needed a cane. He had a little pair of gold reading glasses he kept perched on his nose, and it made him look like pictures of Mrs. Claus in kids' Christmas books. Overall, he was attractive, but, again, _old_.

Presently, Two said, "I'll be glad to see you there. I'll have doughnuts for you."

Five's voice was dripping with sex. Which was weird, because Nine hadn't realized Five's voice was even _capable_ of dripping sex – and here it was, husky and lilting and full of _mmmph_. "I'll be glad to come."

Nine couldn't bring himself to look at Five when he sounded like that. He pictured that hazel eye shining – no, smoldering, the way Five would tilt his chin down slightly, with just a faint smile, pouting… Nine shuddered in horror. The two exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then it was blessedly over.

"See you Sunday, then." Two gave a little wave to everyone and tottered off.

Five looked sad to see him go, slumping visibly. "See you Sunday."

Nine groaned, and tugged his friend's arm. "Six. Crisis. Remember?"

"Huh? Yes." Five looked dazed for a second, and shook his head, had the propriety to look a little embarrassed. "Right. Let's go."

As they left, Five spared a glance back at Two, and heaved a lovesick sigh.

Nine felt ill.

--

As they were skating to Six's, Nine got a text message from Seven. He checked it.

_Midnight, the factory on 9__th__ and East. Bring your one-eyed buddy if you want._

For some reason, Nine didn't feel that he would.

-- **to be continued**

Aww, guys, thanks for your kind reviews! They were really excellent and deep and I appreciated that so very much. I don't like to spoil my own works, so pairings won't be revealed ahead of time, sorry! I'm glad that you're liking my representations of human!punks, too. Thanks so much for your feedback, and please do let me know what you think! :D


	5. Leap

**Testament**

Six's destructive abilities were astounding for someone who never left a one-meter radius from his drawing paper.

When they reached his house, everything was a mess. The television was showing only static, the screamo band was shaking the walls from his bedroom. He had opened up what must have been at least an entire bag of something – flour? – all over the floor and kitchen counters. The place smelled of something sugary, and that underlying smoke. Yes, it was smoke – the fire alarm was going off shrilly. There were papers in the oven, burning. Books were scattered all over the floor. The faucet in the kitchen was running. Some alarm was beeping from the bedroom.

And in the middle of the chaos was Six, knelt over his paper, scribbling fast, frantically. There were streaks of white through his black hair, down his cheek, ink spilling onto the carpet.

"Augh!" exclaimed Five, running to turn off the oven. "God dammit! _Jesus_!"

The twins sprung for the bedroom, leaving Nine to deal with the gibbering Six. He was speaking, but so softly it was drowned out by the surrounding noise, and it was nonsense –was it even English? It sounded like Latin.

"Hey," Nine said, kneeling down beside him.

Six looked at him, and oh yes, he was definitely off of his drugs; his eyes were bloodshot, the pupils dilated, his gaze unsteady and unfocused. He had bitten his lip hard enough to make it bleed, and Nine, catching Six's head as he turned away, used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe it away.

"Shit, man. What have we told you?"

"_Muh-muh-muh_," Six said. He tried to jerk his head away, and when Nine stopped him, he made a frustrated sound. "NO!"

"No, you stop it! Do you want to go the hospital again? We can make it happen."

"They asked for it," he said, slurring. "They begged, they were so cold, you know, you _know_? So cold."

Four dashed over to them, thrust the bottle into Nine's hands, and was off again. The alarm cut short, at around the same time that Five managed to get the fire alarm to stop beeping. He opened up all of the windows.

"He burned _Hamlet_," Five said, and got a loopy kind of grin on his face, as if this was the funniest thing he had seen all day. "He burned _Hamlet_. He's got good taste."

Nine shook his head, reading the dosage instructions on the bottle to be sure. Six wrenched free from him and started drawing again.

"Th-The grapes, and the books… They were so cold, so cold, I had to, I had to! They asked for it – the _grapes_, so cold, and they… their insides, just bursting out, just, guts, everywhere, veined and sour-smelling and they were so cold, you had to, y_ou had to until their skin j-just split open, I… So bloody, I had to_…" Six's voice picked up, sped up, pitched up, until he was nonsensical, just making a high, undulating whistling sound, spitting pink onto his paper, drawing over it.

"All right, all right…" Nine got the dosage, and Five came and squatted beside him with the water. He, Nine, grabbed Six's chin roughly, stuck his thumb in his mouth to get his lips apart, and put the pill in, and then snapped Six's mouth shut over it.

Six trembled all over, stared at him with wild eyes, not seeing him.

"Swallow it."

A muffled sound. He tried to spit it back up but Nine increased the pressure. He would let it dissolve if he had to, if Six wouldn't swallow it, but he knew the pill was bitter and that Six would swallow eventually.

He ground his teeth, and swallowed, and Nine let him go. He coughed, as if trying to vomit it back up, shaking his head, and Five gave him the water. He drank it, shaking all over.

It was only the sedative, would calm him down enough, maybe dull the images a little bit, so that he would be more receptive to the other medication. Once, it hadn't worked, and that was when they had called the hospital, that was when it was bad, when Six had cried and cried…

They stayed with him, and after around twenty minutes the sedative was working, and Six was sitting, drooping, and staring blankly into space. He had stopped muttering. His mouth hung slightly open, and he seemed surprised by every motion.

"There you are," said Five pleasantly. "Feeling better, huh?" He pushed his fingers through Six's hair affectionately, and Six smiled. "Want to do me a big favor and take the rest of your medicine?"

"Okay," Six whispered, as if it was a big secret between the two of them.

He took the rest of it steadily, one at a time, between sips of water. Five rubbed his back and Nine checked the dosages to be sure it was right. Luckily, even though she was constantly absent, his mother was a freak for organization, and had sticky-noted a list of all of his medicines, the days and times he was meant to take them, and how much, and with what.

The sedatives mellowed Six out considerably, and even though he still made absolutely no sense at all, he didn't move from wherever they set him, and drew in lazy, sweeping motions which indicated his zoned-out mood. Not wanting to leave him until he was alert and coherent again, they all sat around and watched all of his Star Wars DVD's. He seemed to forget they were there most of the time, until he had to go to the bathroom, and they took turns making sure he didn't fall into the toilet and die or something.

Around 8:00 in the evening, he seemed to be more or less all right. He didn't remember his panic attack at all, and seemed disappointed that they had watched Star Wars without him. His responses were still slow, though, and sometimes didn't make sense in context (for example, "Are you feeling better?" to which he would answer, "Sandwich."), and mostly he was just kind of slumped in his chair. They would have to make sure he got his sedatives and got back on his schedule over the next few days.

The twins wanted to put in a movie called _Sorority Bloodbath_, which Five refused to watch, complaining about the sheer number of boobs visible on the cover – and in the end they all settled on _Sasquatch from Hell_. By the time it was over, it was nearly time for Nine to meet Seven at the factory.

"I gotta go," he said, moving to stand. Everyone, including Six, stopped to look at him.

"Where?" Five asked.

"Does it matter?" Nine wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so defensive.

"No, I was just wondering. It's not like your mom's expecting you or anything." Oh, now Five was frowning and looking at him in that searching way he did, and Nine felt freshly angry, as if he had been accused of something.

"I don't have to let you know where I'm going all of the time every day, you know, Five."

"I know…"

"Good." Nine grabbed his backpack and stomped into his sneakers, not bothering to untie them. "See you tomorrow."

He shut the door behind him, afraid to look back and see the expression on his best friend's face.

As he was walking down the driveway, he got a text message. It was Four. It said:

_You're an ass. :)_

Nine stuffed his phone in his pocket, scowling. Yeah, yeah, fuck you.

--

Why did the twins have separate cell phones, anyway? They were always together. It wasn't as if you couldn't text one and hear immediately from the other. But then again, their auntie was a little crazy to begin with. She had this fear that someone with a twin-fetish was going to kidnap them and rape them to death.

Nine felt himself cool down as he skated down the near-empty streets. The air was crisp, mostly still, a little cool for summer. There was no noise except for the sound of his wheels passing over pavement, the jingle of his backpack, and the occasional hum of a television from a nearby house as he went by. It was peaceful, and Nine began to smile, even as he began to feel a little guilty.

When he reached the factory, Seven was nowhere to be found. This was an abandoned part of town, falling apart, marked for demolition that the city never quite got around to. All of the buildings were boarded up and crumbling, covered in graffiti, and the place was frequented by hobos and druggies. The grass was tall everywhere, and Nine wondered about tics and mosquitoes vaguely as he sat down on the curb where the glow of the streetlight was brightest.

He didn't have long to wait. From somewhere above him there was a scuffling sound, but when he turned to look, there was nothing.

Then he got a message, and he looked; Seven, he thought with a smile.

_Behind you_.

He turned, and there she was on top of the factory roof. She waved and jumped, and it was at least three stories up, but then she caught the side of the building, a window ledge, and hung briefly before falling the rest of the way, landing smoothly in the grass, rolling to her feet. "Hey, pansy."

"Hey, Seven."

"Where's your friend?" she asked, slapping her hands together to get rid of some dust. They were wrapped in something white – bandages, tape?

Nine shrugged. "I didn't ask him to come."

She raised her eyebrows, and he frowned, not liking the way she scrutinized him like that. Who was she to judge? "Did you two fight?"

"Why would you think that? I don't do _everything_ with him."

"Huh." She sounded unconvinced, but nonchalant, like she didn't really care either way. "Well, whatever. I was just climbing buildings, and I thought you might like it."

"Sure." Nine had no idea how one went about climbing buildings, but he didn't have time to guess, because Seven was dashing down a tight alleyway, and he was on her heels.

As he watched, she jumped sideways into a building, but instead of colliding, she got her feet under her and pushed off of it, upwards and across the to the opposite side of the alleyway, catching a window ledge and scrambling up into the open window hole and through it.

"Oh, shit," he said, gawking. That thing was on the second story.

She peeked back out at him and tilted her head. "Come on, don't tell me you can't do it."

"Pfft. I can do it."

"Prove it." She vanished inside of the abandoned house, reappeared on its roof. "Come on, pansy."

Nine backed up and got a running start, launched off of the wall and across the alleyway. He barely caught the window ledge and hung there for a minute, dangerously close to falling, but then he heaved himself up and through, lying gasping on the dusty floor of the empty house.

"I did it!" he hissed, grinning with triumph, and then he saw the stairs Seven had taken, and followed her out onto the roof. She turned from where she stood on top of the roof and looked him over approvingly, a faint smile on her face. He felt a hot flash run through him at that look, and was suddenly self-conscious. In the moonlight, she seemed so pale, so beautiful.

"Good job. Let's go." She took off, now, leaping across the rooftops, and Nine was helplessly running alongside her, sometimes falling and having to catch himself on the edge of the roof and pull himself back up. They ran along walls – like ninjas, he thought with some amusement – and leapt from narrow ledges to narrower ledges, soaring, silent, through the night air like birds. Sometimes, she leapt from a building four stories tall to a building three stories tall, and Nine would follow, landing roughly while she rolled gracefully back to her feet.

"Let the motion carry you, don't fight it," she was saying to him, barely out of breath. "Like water."

He didn't know what that meant at all.

When they ran together, he felt unified with her, he felt powerful. He caught the reflection of the white contrast against the curved bridge of her nose, the shape of her lip, in the darkness. She would look at him and smile in approval when he made it, and she would laugh when he failed, extend her firm hand to help him back to his feet. He wanted to kiss her and taste her. They leapt from rooftop to rooftop together, dirty, hot, cold, scraped, and alive. So very alive. The black sky pulsated with life and energy.

Across the flat roof of the shed they were standing on was another house with a big, gaping window leading to the second story. It was an easy jump, if you angled your body right; you could shoot right through it like an arrow. Seven hit the edge of the shed and jumped, and spiraled through it, landing easily on the other side with a sideways roll. It had all been in her shoulders, the way she turned sideways and tucked her arms and legs in. Nine tried to mimic her, kicked off too soon, ducked his head, and collided head-on with the side of the building with a cracking sound that was so bizarre, as if it had come from another place and time, for a minute he didn't realize...

He heard her yelling as he fell backwards, down into the alleyway, bounced off of a metal trash can - and then there was blackness. Nothingness.

-- **to be continued**

Nine is kind of a dumbass. It's part of his character. So yes, Six is just a little bit loopy... and maybe a bit homocidal. But he's a sweetheart under it all. Thanks so much for letting me know what you think, folks. It always gets me excited to hear your ideas and see how I can incorperate improvements into my stories. Please do keep it up!


	6. Tense

**Testament**

The first thing Nine saw when he woke up was Seven's tits in his face.

This wasn't a bad thing at all, and he enjoyed it while it lasted. He understood why the twins liked to crowd and snuggle her so much – you could see the darker shape of her bra underneath her white tank top. It was a shame they were so small, though… oh well. You win some, you lose some. Her ass was still fine, and I do mean _fine_.

She saw that he was awake after about a minute and leaned back to look him in the face. "Oh, thank fucking God," she said, and she didn't exactly look happy, more like pissed.

Nine's eyes focused and he realized then that he wasn't in the alleyway anymore, but in a hospital. He tried to sit up and she made him lay back again. Had he blacked out? Was Five all right? "What's going on?" he yelped.

"Don't thrash around too much, all right? You split your head open like a fucking coconut."

"Seriously?" She raised an eyebrow in affirmation, and Nine laughed. "Cool!"

"Not really. You scared me half to death. Seven stitches, you understand?"

"Really?" Nine's hand went to the back of his head, found his probing fingers blocked by a bandage. He frowned. "I can't remember anything. I remember running with you, being on that shed. That's it."

"Yeah, I _know_." She frowned at him. "I personally thought you were going to die, you dumb shit. I saved your skateboard, though."

"Hey, thanks." He smiled at her.

"Doc said to give you these when you woke up," she said, and placed two small white capsules into his hand. Nine took them obediently with the little plastic cup of water on his bedside stand. "I called your friend, too," she continued, popping a mint. "They're on their way. Five – right, Five? One-eye."

"Yes, Five."

"He flipped a _shit_. He's so protective of you. Called us both a few colorful things."

Nine rolled his eyes. "Like he has any room to talk."

"Hey, I'm staying out of it. If you weren't my friend, I would be jetting out of here right now."

"We're friends?"

She looked at him with those deep, silvery eyes, and smiled. His breath caught in his throat. "Yeah, I thought we were. But if anybody on the nursing staff asks, we're _siblings_."

Nine laughed. "Friends, all right. We are."

Then, in a weird show of motherly tenderness, she ran her fingers through his hair, and he couldn't remember the last time a girl had done this to him – his mother hadn't, not in years - and it send a warm shiver up his spine. His scalp tingled and he felt oddly sleepy. A small, contented sigh escaped from him.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was gently being touched awake. A nurse was peering down at him thoughtfully. Nine would have panicked if Seven hadn't laid a hand on his arm. The nurse told him he was well enough to go home, and to take some Tylenol, and get bed rest. She gave him his clothes and was gone.

As Nine dressed, Seven obligingly turned around and stared at the wall.

"You're such a klutz," she said to him, and this made him laugh, and they left the room together.

The minute he entered the waiting room, he was swamped by the twins, who first crushed him in a hug and then poked and prodded him, assessing his injuries. Six stood in the background, completely in outer space, having just received his sedative about forty-five minutes earlier.

"They wouldn't let us in!" cried Five, and Nine held out his arms to receive him. They hugged tightly, and lingered, Five's face buried in the crook of Nine's neck. He spoke, but his voice was muffled. "I was so… I don't even… You're such an idiot."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Stupid!" Five said, holding Nine's face and staring into his eyes. "Why did you do that?"

"I didn't mean to fall," Nine said with a bemused smile. "Huh? Let go of me. Did you call my mom?"

"She didn't pick up, but I left a message."

Expecting as much, Nine shrugged and smiled in thanks. The twins came in for a second round of hugging, and then hugged Seven for good measure. She laughed and cuddled them, pinched their cheeks each in turn. They both stole a mint from her.

Five drove Nine home with the twins and Six in the back seat, and the ride was weirdly silent. The only time anyone spoke was when Five muttered, "I don't understand it… with _her_… It's all bad news. Look at you. Stupid. Nearly had a heart attack."

Despite his irritation, Nine couldn't help but crack a smile at the thought of how much Five sounded like a grouchy grandmother.

--

In the morning, Nine checked out his face. Luckily he had hit the building more with the top of his head than his face, so there weren't any nasty broken noses or bruises to be worried about. God knows he'd already had his fair share of those, thanks mostly to his tendency to get into fights, and his poor luck. He had a subtle scar over his delicate eyebrows, and another on his chin where he had needed stitches, for trying to ride his skateboard off of the roof. It was a shame, too, because he liked his chin – it was small, and pointed, sloping from his sharp jawbone, and it had a little dimple in the center. It was the only part of Nine's face that he liked, even though people told him he was decent-looking. He thought his eyes were too wide apart, such a weird, muddy color, not blue and not brown and not hazel. His nose was small and feminine, a ski-jump slope ending in a button on the dead center of his face. And then his wide mouth, too big, too animated. His whole face was too narrow to support his enormous mouth.

Scowling, noting that he needed to shave, Nine turned away from the mirror and stalked downstairs for breakfast.

He was surprised to find Seven and Five already there, talking quietly across the kitchen table. As he watched, Seven popped a mint, had a slow smile growing on her face as Five said something in that mumbling way he did when he was embarrassed. Then Seven caught sight of him (Five's eye was on the side farthest from Nine, and so he couldn't see that part of the room), and she got a dangerous grin on her face.

"Hi, Nine."

Five jumped and turned, and smiled also. He had a new bruise across his chin – where had it come from? Who?

"Hey," Nine said awkwardly. "Did mom let you in?"

"Yeah, she had work, found us sitting on the porch," said Seven. "Five left his key here again, I guess, is what he told me."

Seeing Nine look between them suspiciously, Five laughed. "She didn't spend the night or anything. We both just showed up. I was here first."

This last bit of information was said with a bit too much conviction, but Seven didn't seem to notice, so Nine ignored it. "How's Six?"

"Better. He's eating. And he fell asleep after we got you home. He's still not talking much, though." Five frowned. "Do you figure we should have taken him to the doctor?"

"He hates it there. He's better here. We're doing what the doctor would have said anyway." Nine shuffled his feet, feeling sick. "I mean… we can't panic and fall apart every time he has an episode."

"Yeah, I guess… yeah."

Seven piped up now. "Where are his folks? Why are you guys playing mommy and daddy?"

The room went silent. Five looked at Nine worriedly.

"They're gone," Nine muttered. "They're always gone. He's not the only one. The twins… and me."

"Oh." Her eyes widened slightly, but otherwise this seemed to have no effect on her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." With a lurch of effort, Nine started pulling things from the cupboard, got some oatmeal and settled on that. "It's not your fault."

Five stared at the table and drummed his fingers against it. His father was never gone. Never.

--

"Why are you always roaming the streets anyway?" Nine asked Seven as they walked to the mall. Five refused to let him skate until he was healed, which, while nice of him, was extremely frustrating.

She shrugged, playing with an orange yoyo. "I guess I just run away from things."

"What are you running from?" Five asked. "Portuguese class?"

"Ha ha ha," Seven said sarcastically, though she smiled.

The way Five's eye fixed on her, it seemed like he wasn't trying to be funny. He was sucking on his lip like he did when he was thinking, and his eyebrow pitched down, and Nine began to feel kind of awkward. Had they argued, while he was asleep? He had thought that they were getting along, and all. They were compatible, in any case, both very friendly, intelligent, active people… And here they were, exchanging barbed words, sharp stares.

But Nine didn't rock the boat. He didn't see the point. He would only upset Five and turn Seven away. For all of her strength, she seemed flighty, like she would just walk away one day and never come back.

She was wearing skinny jeans today, instead of her usual baggy cargo shorts and camo pants. They hugged her J-Lo-like ass, and Nine could see the white rim of her underwear. She had been wearing a hoodie earlier, which covered the gap, but now that she had taken it off, leaving only her Pepsi T-shirt, which rumpled over her perfectly flat stomach, he could see the outline of her hip…

He tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and landed flat on his face. Seven laughed at him but Five went into a panic.

"Are you all right? Oh God! You didn't hit your head again, did you? Jesus Christ! Do you need to see the doctor? Auuugh!"

"I'm fine," Nine mumbled, embarrassed. Five helped him to his feet, and Nine, for once, was impatient with the unnecessary handling. He jerked himself free. "I'm _fine_."

"Are you sure? Did you hit your head?" Five pushed his fingers through Nine's mousy hair, gently brushed over his stitches.

"I'm fine," Nine said, a bit more gently now, smiling, and it was worth it, after all, to see the bright look of relief flash through Five's eye, the way he smiled.

"You beat yourself up too much," he said quietly.

"Sorry, _Mom_," Nine grumbled, and Seven started laughing all over again; Five picked up on it, started giggling, and everything was all right again, the tension broken.

--

Sometime in the ten minutes Nine lost track of Five, Five had purchased a happy meal, and had also gotten stoned, which was a feat even by Nine's standards, because they _were_ in a public mall, and even if he went outside, it wasn't if people would miss a one-eyed boy smoking a joint.

Inwardly bemoaning Subway and their long, slow-moving lines which allowed perfect window for dope-smoking, Nine sat across from Five and gave him his I'm-So-Disapproving look, which seemed to do the trick.

Five lowered his gaze sadly, rolling his enormous soda around in his hands. "Couldn't help it."

"I know." Nine paused to check where Seven was – still in line at Subway, ha ha, see _her_ get out of that traffic jam – and turned back to Five with irritation. "I thought you were all out."

"Found some more under my mattress."

"Why the fuck were you looking under your mattress?"

"It's where I keep my porn."

"Ugh!"

Five laughed at him, and Nine munched his ham-and-cheese in grumpy silence.

After a little while, Seven came up and sat beside Nine, and Five gave her a scrutinizing look that Nine didn't like. Maybe he was just confused by her earrings, because they _were_ quite shiny, and Five always had problems with shiny things while he was stoned. Anyway, when she sat, her leg brushed down the length of Nine's, and he felt hot all over, and not really hungry anymore.

God, he _really _hoped she wasn't a lesbian.

-- **to be continued**

Guys! You're amazing! I love hear what you're thinking. It's so great and it inspires me. I have to start writing a novel for my project here pretty soon, and at that time, my updates may be a little bit slower. Sorry about that. It won't be bad, though.

Now, for the fic... I can't tell you what pairings are going to be final. I will tell you that yes, this Two is the "same" Two from Talk of Fish, as in he is the same character, but he is not from the same universe. The motorcycle accident is a result of his character acting as his character, not a result of being in the same universe, though it is still undecided or unconfirmed that he has had romance with One in the past. One WILL be making an appearance, though I'm not saying how.

I will answer questions, as long as they don't spoil the plot, ha. So don't be afraid to tell me what you think or are wondering about, etcetera.


	7. Dates

**Testament**

"Want to arm wrestle?"

"Excuse me?"

The look on Five's face was priceless. Seven cocked an eyebrow at Nine in order to express her incredulousness, and she leaned forward to speak to him in a hushed voice. "Arm wrestle."

"Uhh…? Okay, I guess." Now Five looked at Nine, as if he seriously doubted her sanity.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle with you," she said with a growing smirk. "Afraid to lose to a girl?"

"You're not a girl," Five muttered, "you're a she-male. A fuckin' _beast_."

"Fuck yes, I am. Now put your elbow on the table, candy-ass."

Heaving an enormous sigh, Five obliged, putting up his hand to arm wrestle. He fixed her with a bored, dubious look that made Nine laugh. Needless to say, he immediately lost to her. For someone so skinny, she had a lot of muscle strength. You could see them, rippling a little underneath the surface, when she was running or skating. Five was strong, too, but it was all lean muscle that had turned into air recently.

She grinned triumphantly and turned to Nine, raising her eyebrows in challenge. "What about you?"

Nine didn't want to. He was weaker than Five when it came to arm strength. He was afraid of her. She had a slim, pretty wrist – the other was hidden by the black wristband. But anyway, he put his arm on the table, and agreed to it, just to feel her hand in his own. He'd felt it before, when they were running on the buildings, when he had tripped and she had helped him back to his feet. But this was different, because she slipped her hand in slowly, and she wasn't squeezing his wrist to lift him, but gripping his hand to show her power. Her skin was dry, kind of rough, cool to the touch. Not like Five's hands, Nine knew those well – those were warm, a little callused on the fingertips but soft all over, and so much bigger than these. Seven's bones felt delicate under his hand, but he knew the strength in them.

"Ready?" she asked, and he smelled her mints when she breathed, that little flush of spearmint across his cheek and lips. She was looking at him with intensity, shifting her hips in her chair and planting her legs apart. It was almost as if she expected a challenge out of him. "One, two, three."

Nine pushed hard. Her hand wavered for maybe a minute, and then began to lean against his, but he fought here there at a 45-degree angle, holding it, not wanting to lose just yet. She gripped him tight, the ragged nubs of her fingernails digging into the back of his hand.

And then he lost, and she cheered and threw her fists up in the air. He realized that she bit her lower lip when she focused, like Five did, and it was a little red now, puffy.

"You are the wimpiest bunch of boys I've ever known," she said, pushing her seat away from the kitchen table cockily. The smug expression on her face made Nine smile.

--

Sunday rolled around. By then, Nine's concussion was a distant memory, Six was back on track and feeling just as good as ever, and Five, who had been beaten up by Eight and who had returned home _from_ being beaten up to be beaten up by his father, was staying with Nine again, and getting ready to go to Two's house to work on his telescope.

Nine had never seen him in such a nervous frenzy before. He had showered twice so far, and brushed his teeth at least four times, and kept checking his nails, and looking at his pants, and asking Nine, "Are these too dirty?" even though he had washed them the night before.

It was really quite frightening.

"Look, your hair is fine," Nine said, scowling. "Your bruises aren't noticeable anymore, your eye patch is clean, you smell _lovely_."

"Don't make fun of me," Five mumbled, and a sweet blush rushed up his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. Again, sometimes he could be gayer than Elton John.

Nine couldn't help but smile at the sight of that. "You look fine. Don't try too hard."

Letting out a shaking sigh, Five pushed his fingers through his own hair, and now it was sticking out in every direction again. "All right."

"You going, right now?"

"Yeah, right now. I guess. Yeah, I guess."

"Keep safe, all right?"

"All right, all right, it's not as if…" Something about Five seemed restless, upset. It set off warning bells in Nine's head. He was bound to do something stupid.

"Listen, if you need me…"

"I'll call you, all right? Jesus." Five shuffled his feet, pawing for the doorknob. "I'm… gonna go."

"_Call_. Okay?"

"Okay. Okay."

And then he was gone.

--

At midnight, Nine's cell phone went off. This wasn't unusual – he wasn't even in bed yet. What was weird was, Five was calling him, and Five was usually back by 10:00 if he ever went anywhere, and anyway, didn't the geezer have a bed time?

Five's voice wavered on the line, and Nine couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying. "Hey, Nine, let me in, won't you?"

"Where have you been, man? Christ." Without waiting for an answer, Nine closed his phone and stalked to the front door in his bare feet. When he flung the door open, he was surprised by the sharpness of the porch light on Five's face, how stark it was against the curve of his eyebrow and nose. He looked like a different person.

"Nine!" Five exclaimed, and laughed, as if he hadn't expected to see him there.

"You smell awful."

"Can I come in?"

"If you promise to shower."

"I already showered like, three times. Hey, I'm kind of hungry."

"Where'd you get more weed? You were all out, and you don't have any money."

"Mom got Dad to open my account. Ran into Eight again. Almost kicked my ass again. I got some. Needed it. I'm hungry."

Sighing, Nine stood aside, and Five wandered in. He yawned even as he headed for the kitchen, and Nine caught him by the back of his jacket, sitting him down on the couch. "I'll make you something, stay put. Hmm?"

"Hey… Make me what? Hey, I'm hungry."

"Stay." Nine thumped him gently. "Focus. Hey? Stay."

"All right. Fine." Five yawned again, slumping back against the couch. "Hey, are you watching Lord of the Rings? I didn't know you liked that… Huh. I'm hungry. I always fitted you for a hobbit."

"Uh huh," Nine mumbled, not really listening as he rummaged around in the kitchen. His mother wasn't home yet, God knew if she was coming back tonight at all. She had probably found some guy at a bar to take her home, and he hoped she was enjoying herself, didn't want her to see this.

"I like the blue-eyed one, myself. Frodo. Hey, guess what? Ran into Eight on the way home today."

"Uh huh."

"I'm hungry."

"Uh huh. Here." Nine thrust a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into Five's hand, setting a glass of milk down in front of him. He knew he liked the stuff, especially together. Sitting across from Five, he'd never felt so old. "How was your date?"

For a minute, Five actually seemed to sober up. His eyes cleared and he stopped chewing to smile. "It was wonderful," he said around his mouthful, and he sighed. "He's so talented. His hands… Oh, God."

If Five started waxing poetry about how handsome the old man was, Nine thought he might throw up.

"I really like him, Nine," Five said then, quietly, and fixed Nine with such a sincere look it hurt.

"All right, all right. I don't want to know the details."

He thought about what they must have looked like, Five alone with Two, talking in that surprisingly sexy _I'm-Going-To-Fuck-You-Against-The-Wall_ voice, and Two calling him _sweetheart_ and _honey bunch_, and the two of them screwing each other with their eyes. Two with his pimp cane against the wall, leaning over Five's shoulder to point out a flaw in his design… Nine wanted to block out the images, couldn't.

Five carried on. "When we were working, he kept leaning over me, touching me, and he was so warm, it felt so nice, he smelled so good… He's so gentle, and his hands were… I could feel him breathing, yeah? I wanted to…" Here, thankfully, his thoughts stuttered out. Nine found it unsettling that Five could work up the effort to stay on this train of thought when he couldn't focus on anything else.

After a while, Five slumped over into Nine's lap, halfway through Return of the King. He mumbled nonsensically for a little while, tweaked, kind of, played over and over with his eye patch and couldn't keep his hands still. "Nine, hey, Nine."

"Huh?" That single hazel eye was so intensely expressive, burned right through Nine.

"I love you, man. You're like, my best friend _ever_."

"Yeah, I know." Nine cracked a grin.

Five giggled, and shortly thereafter he fell asleep.

--

Sometime in the morning, Seven waltzed through the front door, dancing. Nine was amused by the way she danced, like a hip-hop star, graceful but not feminine, jumping and kicking and using her fists a lot. When she spotted Nine, sprawled on the couch with Five draped over him, she grinned and waggled her eyebrows.

"Busy night, boys?"

"Don't even start. And please don't wake him up."

Here came the twins in a small wave, and stood on either side of Seven like book ends. They grinned at Nine, and waved, eyeing Five all the while.

"Where'd they come from?" Nine asked, feeling a headache coming on. He tried to sit up and found Five to be a dead weight. He settled for petting his hair and listening to the faint, throaty noises that came in response. He enjoyed it, until he felt Five began to rub against him, and then it became awkward. He wondered what Five was dreaming of, if he was dreaming at all.

"Front door was unlocked," Seven explained as the twins came around and sat on the couch beside Nine. She kicked it shut behind her and put her hands on her generous (oh, so generous) hips. "I was going to ask if you wanted to do something, but I can see you're busy babysitting."

"I've been forbidden from building climbing ever again," Nine said, though he started to smile, too.

"Nah, I was thinking more like a movie." She shrugged, and popped a mint, though from the way she refused to meet his eyes, he got the feeling something was up.

"Are you… Are you asking me out?" He started to laugh, because she _wouldn't_, but then she pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows expectantly, and even though everything had suddenly become very serious, he started laughing harder.

"Don't laugh. You're such a prick." She shoved her hands in her pockets. "Are you coming or not?"

"What movie?" he asked slyly, and he was rewarded by her tiny smirk.

"I was thinking that zombie movie."

"I think you just like topless girls doused in blood."

"I might."

"Maybe you _are_ a lesbian," he teased, and of course she didn't understand, but she laughed anyway. And that was what he liked about her. "All right," he said when it was over, "I'll go."

She smiled, but didn't say anything. The twins exchanged looks and made rude hand motions, and the whole thing fell apart.

-- **to be continued**

I got a few questions about the kids' parents, and I realized I didn't go into much detail on the matter. Now... Nine lives with his single mother, as his father walked out on them when Nine was a toddler. Five's parents are divorced, though his dad still sometimes gets back together with his mother for short periods of time. The twins' parents died in a car accident, and they live with their slightly neurotic aunt. Six's parents are still alive, though they are very busy with work and are almost never home. Seven lives with both of her parents, though they are _very_ well-off and don't pay her much attention (this will be investigated a little later in the fic). They're all a little dysfunctional, but this is purposeful because it goes with the tone of the fic. Is that good? :D

As for this particular chapter... We're seeing some actual romance! Just a little bit. But romance nonetheless! Huzzah!

Please do let me know how this is going for you. Thanks so much for your feedback! :3


	8. Spearmint

**Testament**

Five was still asleep when Nine got ready to go to the movies. The twins were on guard duty, which they didn't take very seriously, playing with their phones and just jerking off in general. Nine didn't care to leave his friends unsupervised in his house (especially the twins, who had already found his porn stash three different times, his mother's underwear, a few pictures of Nine's father, as well as their collection of illegally-gained firecrackers, which they set off in the backyard much to the irritation of the neighbors), but he decided that if he was gone for three hours, the damage would probably be minimal. There were no explosives in the house, and Five, although stoned, was relatively responsible and had moderate control over Three and Four when the time came for it. He had known them longer than Nine, who had moved into town in seventh grade, and they trusted his judgment better.

Seven lollygagged as Nine made a show of brushing his teeth, secretly hoping Five would wake up so that he could say goodbye. When Five showed no signs of moving – he was barely breathing, really was a dead body when he slept – Nine finally gave up and led Seven out the door.

"I'll drive," he said. "I like to do things proper."

"Of course you do," she said, waving goodbye to the twins, who ogled her shamelessly. "Stay safe, all right? Text me."

They nodded vaguely, nudging each other. Four smirked.

"They're not as innocent as they look, you know," Nine said as they came down the driveway.

"I know. But I can't help it. I'm wooed by their angelic charms."

Nine snickered, "Yeah, right," and Seven smiled.

They would need to take his mother's minivan, since Nine didn't have a car of his own, but if Seven thought this was pathetic, she didn't comment. She simply popped a mint and hopped into the passenger's seat. She didn't put on a seatbelt, and immediately cranked down the window.

Nine started the van, and she turned on the radio. He wasn't sure what station was playing, but it alternated between serious metal and alternative rock and even some hip hop, and she bobbed her head to it.

"Lunch after?" Nine asked, as it was still relatively early in the day.

"Sure. I like Chinese food, but I'll settle for whatever."

"Chinese food it is. I don't care." Nine headed for the multiplex, trying to keep from looking at Seven, who was being distracting with her dancing and her beautiful face and the quiet sucking sounds she made as she popped her mints. The open window tossed her short blond hair and let in the heat of summer.

It was strangely casual, Nine thought. As if they weren't out on a date. He hadn't had a date since the middle of school last year, and that girl had been no fun, whiny, needy, texting people constantly as if she had important business that couldn't wait. She kept her eyes open when Nine kissed her, and he didn't like that. He wondered if Seven would be different, if she would even kiss him, if he asked. She wasn't a very affectionate girl, except to the twins, even if she liked you. It wasn't her style.

She caught him looking, and smiled. "Don't be so nervous, pretty boy."

"I'm not," he muttered, and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

--

The movie was appropriate parts gory and pornographic, and Nine enjoyed both facets. Seven was the only girl he knew who laughed at the sight of zombie brains flying through the air in slo-mo. When it was over, she was a little drunk on Sprite and the most buttery popcorn Nine had ever eaten, and she popped another mint, sighing. "Nice."

He wasn't sure what she meant by that, so he said, "Yes."

She glanced at him, and smiled, leaning up against the side of the mini-van with her hands flattened to the door on either side of her. It was a vulnerable pose he recognized on an instinctive level, and it stirred something a little primal in him. Her tank top rid up a little bit on her stomach, and he saw the strip of pale skin, her belly button, the white top of her panties as her oversized cargo shorts sat too low on her voluptuous hips. Her skin was like porcelain there, untouched by sun, tight, muscles standing out underneath. Nine's mouth was dry. He licked his lips and stood before her.

"You're a nice kid, Nine," she said to him, her head slightly inclined. She seemed to be searching him for something, but he wasn't sure what she wanted from him, didn't have much to give.

"Thanks?" Nine guessed, and smiled. "I try."

"You _are_, though. You just are." She titled her head, and he stared at her sharp jaw line. "Lunch now?"

"Huh? Sure." Shaking himself awake, Nine started heading towards the driver's side. "Pick the place."

But she was grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie, and he turned to face her, was surprised by the closeness of her eyes. He had never seen them up close before, in this much detail, and he loved the way her dark eyeliner seemed to pale out her blue-gray eyes, the way her pupils seemed to sear through him. She tugged on him again, and now she was even closer, and he saw her sloping, perfect nose, her thin, expressive mouth, and they were kissing. She gripped the front of his hoodie, as if afraid he would run away, and for a minute he wasn't sure what to do with himself before he did what he had always wanted to, and put his hands on her hips. This exchange seemed to break an unspoken barrier, and she stepped in closer, let him go, put her hands up on his neck and in his hair. He felt her knee brush against his own, her small breasts press against him when she breathed in, her elbows on his shoulders.

Her lips were cool, firm, a little bit cherry-flavored, and it reminded him of the medicine he had taken as a kid for his ear infections, but it wasn't bad. When she pushed into his mouth, taking control, he tasted popcorn and butter and, even more strongly, those mints, and now he knew what they tasted like, like spearmint, almost kind of sugary, cool. He heard her breathing, slow, steady, and knew he could barely breathe at all. Little puffs of air against his cheek, the smooth contour of her hips, her skin, solid under his hands. She had always seemed like smoke before, but now he realized she was a woman, very real, so full of magnetism that he felt like a startled little boy.

She nipped at him, and let him go, ending the slow kiss that had felt so brief. He couldn't look her in the face yet, stared at her belt buckle and drew a deep, shuddering breath to collect himself. He felt numb from head to toe, cold in the pit of his stomach. When he glanced back up, she was smiling.

He smiled, too, and laughed breathlessly. He wanted to kiss her again, thought that this might not be allowed.

"Shy, huh? You're a good kid." She scuffed her shoe against the pavement, a subtle sign that she was a little stirred up, too. Then, unexpectedly, "Are you a virgin?"

Nine yelped. "_What_?"

"Are you?"

"Huh? What? _No_." He wasn't, either. A two-week girlfriend, the beginning of Junior year. He hadn't actually liked her much, not even after that, because she always picked on Five for his eye, and she didn't like horror movies, and her nails had always stabbed him. "Why are you asking, anyway?"

Seven shrugged, popping another mint. "Just wondering."

Not sure if he was crossing a line, Nine asked, "Are _you_?"

"Nah. Eighth grade. Wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Boy was a fucking retard, but I suppose that's because he was a sophomore who couldn't get laid by a high school girl, and he had to settle for someone like me."

Nine didn't know what to say. He stared at her. "_Are_ you a lesbian?"

"Stop asking stupid questions," she said, and affectionately punched him in the arm.

He still tasted her lingeringly as he drove them to the noodle shop six blocks down the street.

--

When they came home, Five was awake, and when he looked at Nine, his expression was impossible to explain.

"Where did you go?"

Nine shrugged. "Out."

"With Seven? You didn't even wake me up…"

"You looked peaceful. I didn't want to bother you."

"Didn't want…?" Five frowned, and stared at his feet. He ran a hand through his auburn hair.

Seven grabbed Nine's hand from behind, just gently, not demandingly, and held him in her cool, loose grasp. Five saw it, and his eye widened in comprehension. He looked between them once, twice, three times, and then he started sucking on his lip.

"Huh," he said. "Huh."

"We saw that zombie movie," Nine said, hoping to get off of the subject and failing. Five's eye was dark and swirling. "It wasn't any good. Six would like it."

"I'm sure he would. We'll have to show him," Five muttered. "I'm… gonna call Two. We were going to meet Friday."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Five frowned at him, catching his tone. "That all right?"

"Of course. I don't have to approve everything you do."

Seven, who had remained silent this entire time, chimed in. "How was your nap, Five?"

Five bit his lip. "I don't know. I dreamed."

"What about?"

"Nothing." He kicked at something on the ground. "The twins went out for ice cream. I think they just ditched. Not coming back."

"Did they break anything?" Nine asked. He wanted to draw Five up and hug him, but he couldn't, _couldn't_. Five fixed him with that look and he knew. He knew.

"No, I don't think so. I'm gonna go call Two. I'm gonna go." He brushed around Seven, and jerked when he touched her, as if she had burned him.

Nine looked at Seven worriedly, but she smiled up at him. "He doesn't want to give up his best friend, that's all. Boys are such poor communicators." She rolled her eyes, and took a seat.

Nine descended on her. They kissed again, and it was tingly, and good, and when he looked up, Five was watching them. When he caught Nine looking, he tugged on his eye patch and stared at the floor.

"It'll be all right, won't it?" Nine asked, and Seven raised a thoughtful eyebrow. He loved it, wanted her badly.

"Stop asking stupid questions," she said with a wry grin. "If you're getting stir-crazy, we can skateboard."

"Five wouldn't like it."

She shrugged and started to watch the television.

--

Nine woke from the depths of hot dreams to the sound of Five muttering from his sleeping bag. Usually, when Five stayed over, he started out on the floor and migrated into Nine's bed, and neither of them minded. It was a queen-sized bed, and they were close enough by now that the proximity wasn't a problem.

"You all right?" Nine whispered into the darkness. He could make out the shape of Five's shoulders and that was all.

"Fine," Five said back. "Cold."

"Come up, then."

"No. I'm okay." A pause. "Did you…? So are you…?"

"I guess. I guess she is. I mean, my girlfriend, and things."

He waited, but there was no reply. When he heard Five's breathing even out and deepen as he fell asleep, Nine began to let himself drift again, but he never slept quite as deeply as he had before. He kept thinking he heard someone shouting in the distance, but each time he woke to listen, it would be quiet, and Five would be slumbering on the floor beside him, peaceful.

-- **to be continued**

I'm gonna have to tack on a light maturity warning for future chapters, because there will be direct references to sex (however, no explicit, or even vague sex - it's just not my thing, and I can't write it, anyway. You get the point without it).

Now... I'm not saying that Seven is easy, because she lost her virginity in eighth grade. It didn't feel right, to me, for her to hang onto something like that - she didn't strike me as the type that would, not out of any social pressure but just because... she could. She's rebellious, she's curious, she's self-confident, and she likes taking risks. I hope this doesn't offend anybody. This subject won't really be breached again anywhere else in the story, but it felt important to touch on it.

Thanks so much for your feedback, guys. It just really brightens my day that you take the time to do it. :3 Thank you, and stay tuned!


	9. Sight

**Testament**

On Wednesday, Nine and Seven had sex in the back of his mother's minivan.

He lay sprawled on the fake leather seats, half-dressed, Seven stretched across him, asleep. Her breath smelled like spearmint, he thought, and ran his fingers through her hair. She hummed quietly.

She was a casual kind of girl about everything, so he figured it wasn't because she was easy or even that she necessarily liked him a whole lot, but that she wanted sex, and he would give sex, and so she got sex. He didn't mind either way. It wasn't as if she was a girl with poor morals. She was clean from drugs and all, wasn't part of a gang or anything – she just liked to get laid, apparently. Nine liked it this way.

With her laying across him that way, his leg was falling asleep, but it was good, it was okay. He liked the warm, comfortable weight of a person on him, liked to look down and see the top of her head resting on his chest, her slender arm dripping off of him and brushing the floor of the car.

"So pretty," he said, and she laughed dryly, the sound muffled by his T-shirt. Guess she wasn't actually asleep after all.

"Pillow talk isn't my thing," she said, and looked up at him. Her eye makeup was smudged everywhere, and she looked kind of like a crack addict, or an owl.

Nine burst out laughing, and she looked at him blankly, completely unimpressed by his boyish behavior. He knew if he didn't stop, she'd sock him in the face, but he couldn't quit.

"Your face!" he said, and she scowled.

"It's your fault. Overenthusiastic little shit." She rubbed her face tiredly, smudging the makeup even more. "Take me home."

He kissed her nose, and this seemed to surprise her, because she blinked at him and sat back. He took the opportunity to kiss her mouth, and she batted him off, annoyed at the excess affection.

"Stop that. You're such a girl." Her words didn't hold any real anger, though, so he allowed himself to dally around a bit more before she finally managed to get a hold of her tank top and put it on. He watched shamelessly as she slipped into her camo-print shorts, arching her hips off of the seat, stocking feet planted on the floor, her shoulders pressed against the back of the seat. He wanted her all over again, restrained himself.

"We'll do it again sometime, huh?" he asked with a cheeky, hopeful grin, trying to find his pants.

He didn't see her expression, but felt her warm exasperation. When he looked up, she had put on his hoodie, and he felt wrong somehow, like it didn't belong with her. He wanted it back, but felt it would be rude to ask. It wasn't as if she would keep it, he thought. He hoped she wouldn't.

"I don't know. You were kind of bad at it," she said, even though she was smiling.

"I just need practice, and besides which, I was amazing."

"Uh huh? For you, maybe."

Now, unsure if she was kidding or not, he felt a bit wounded. She sensed the change in him and laughed, slapping his arm.

"I'm kidding. Don't be so sensitive. You don't even have a vagina. Christ."

"I bet that disappoints you, Super Dyke."

"Do I want to know? No. Take me home."

He obliged, grinning all the while.

--

Nine came home humming pleasantly, kicking the door shut behind him. He felt good, mellow all over, his tension released. Every time he started to feel normal, he would think about Seven, squirming out of those camo-printed shorts, and he would start grinning all over again. She was strong and passionate in all areas of her life, he thought absent-mindedly, and this was a funny thought, made him smile, even though in reality her style had been more domineering, steady, with her leading, instructing, in control, and him laying back and obeying. The whole thing had been entirely unexpected – he'd kissed her, and she had jumped him, and he, being a relatively intelligent boy who knew when he had something good coming to him, didn't try to stop her.

Wondering what was in store for tomorrow, Nine rummaged around for something to eat. He grabbed some frozen pizza from the fridge and was searching for a Pepsi when he heard something shuffle behind him.

"What happened?"

Nine nearly jumped out of his skin, even though he recognized the voice. He turned to see Five there, lying on the couch, and Nine wondered how he hadn't seen him there before.

It was strange. A yellow light was coming through the window, lighting up the red in Five's hair and casting a sharp shadow under his sloped eyebrows, cutting out a dark place where his eye was, and for a minute it was as if he had lost both.

"Nothing much," Nine said, and couldn't stop the smile that burst through.

Five's mouth thinned out. He was sprawled back across the couch, his shoes on the seat, and Nine's mom hated it when they put their feet on the furniture, but somehow never got passed nagging about it. Nine didn't smell weed, and had no reference for Five's pensive silence.

"Where's your hoodie?" Five asked at last, and Nine flashed cold.

He took a bite of pizza, buying time. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to talk about it with Five. He'd already texted the twins, who had responded exuberantly, wanting to know all sorts of details Nine didn't feel at liberty to share. Five's gaze never left his face, though, and so Nine had no choice but to answer. "Seven stole it."

"You never take it off."

"No. I know." Nine shrugged awkwardly, took another bite of pizza. "What's it matter, anyway?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. I was just wondering. Because you're always wearing it. That's all. You're always wearing it."

Nine hefted himself onto the kitchen island and ate his pizza without another word. Five was quiet, too. He sat up after a while and watched the television.

"Slept with her," Nine said at last, so quietly he wasn't sure he had really said it, and Five looked at him with an unreadable expression. Nine wished he had his hoodie after all, to zip and unzip.

"Huh? I figured."

"Really?"

"You look… Never mind." Five sighed, ran his fingers through his hair. "Forget it. Forget it."

Searching for a new subject, Nine asked, "Still not ready to go home?"

"You want me to?"

"No, I was just asking."

"He hasn't left yet. I went home and he was still there. Got some of my things and left before we could start to fight. I guess… Mom's thinking of maybe marrying him again. I…"

"Five… Why didn't you tell me?" Nine's gut hurt.

"Doesn't matter. Nothing you could do, anyway, if she does…" Five's voice cracked, and Nine pushed off of the counter, moving to hold him, and Five braced him with a hand, keeping him at arm's distance. "No," he mumbled, even though Nine could see the tears, now, wondered if they had been there all along. "No, it's all right, it's fine… It's all right."

Nine pushed the offending arm aside and pulled Five to him, and Five dissolved like he always did, hung onto him, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. He trembled all over, and Nine gently worked his fingers against his friend's back to soothe him. After holding Seven, this weight was so much more familiar, almost comforting, heavy and masculine and warm, hard planes where she had been so soft.

Nine spoke to the wall, resting his cheek against the top of Five's head. "I'm sorry. You can stay. I'm sorry."

"Don't want to go, not ever…" Five's breath was hot against Nine's neck, his tears wet and cooler. His grasp tightened just barely, and he said, his voice lower, "You smell different, like her."

"Do I?"

"Sort of… I guess." Five hitched a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up. Don't be sorry."

"But I am."

Nine stroked Five's hair until he was settled down, and then he donated the last of his pizza. Five ate it slowly, a faraway look in his eyes. He didn't say anything else.

Nine stood and felt the incredible urge to shower. After a minute, he decided that he would, and did.

--

Five lost his eye at a birthday party.

He had been quite high, and Nine was getting tired of shepherding him about to be sure that he didn't start humping strangers or pissing in flower pots or other such embarrassing things. And Five had more or less behaved himself, despite totally getting stoned, which Nine had made him promise not to do, because Nine didn't have his driver's license yet and Five, being older and just generally better at monotonous tasks, did. When your designated driver gets stoned _and_ drunk, you're in for a shitty drive home.

When Five started trying to slow-dance with Nine (which, while funny, made Nine distinctly uncomfortable), it was time to go home. They grabbed some candy to go, said goodbye to Eight, who was turning nineteen then, was entering a year of Super-Senior-dom. They piled into Five's car, a cheap steel blue contraption with a broken turn signal and a crappy stereo system. Nine entertained them by singing as many rounds of "Old MacDonald" as he could, and Five laughed and laughed.

Nine remembered distinctly the look in those beautiful hazel eyes. They were a kind of honey brown from a distance, but up close they were nearly green, with swirls and speckles of blue and gold. They had shined with pleasure as they passed under a street light, and Five glanced at him, and Nine had felt petrified, pinned to the wall, a butterfly stuck to a corkboard, examined, taken completely apart and exposed in his barest elements, so very… Swallowed up.

And then they had driven straight into the tree.

It was a funny thing. The branches speared right through the glass like fists through tissue paper. Shards of glittering diamonds sprayed their faces, and Nine's face struck the dashboard, and his vision had blurred over with blood and pain, the steady throb where his seatbelt hit him. He remembered Five screaming, and it was a horrible sound, a _terrible_ sound, unusually high and constant, and every time he ran out of breath Five would hitch in another and scream some more.

Nine couldn't see his face. Five was hunched over the steering wheel, thrashing, clutching at his face, blood pulsing steadily between his fingers, oozing out, _pushing_ out, thick, dark, viscous, dripping down onto the wheel, rolling off of it like sweat, like condensation… And Five clawed at his own skin, causing fresh blossoms of blood to spring up over his eyebrow where his nails dug in, as if he could somehow tear out the agony, stem the bleeding with the force of his energy.

Nine had never seen so much blood in real life. It was more awful than anything he had seen on television. This wasn't a bright, gory red - this was something more evil, almost black, unnaturally thick, staining his best friend's cheek and, _oh, God_, running into his open, screaming mouth…

After that, Nine had passed out. He woke in the ambulance an indeterminate amount of time later, looked over at Five, unconscious, the doctor opening that bloody cavern and shining light down into it, and Nine screamed at him to stop it, _stop it_, and they had shot him with something that dragged him under something thicker and darker than even sleep.

He felt like such a failure.

--

"Finished my camera," Five said softly.

Nine looked up from where he had been staring at his feet. "Huh?"

"I made it, my camera."

"Hey, neat. Can I see?"

"Of course you can."

Five's single eye smiled at him. Nine's mouth filled with bile.

-- **to be continued**

Things will start getting a little more serious from here on out, folks. Don't worry, it's not a bad thing. ;D Do keep and mind that not everything is permanent in my stories. Now... FANTASTIC feedback last time, guys! Dice, you didn't log in, so I'm calling out out here: your review was full of awesome and really inspired me, so thank you so much.

You guys are wonderful! Do keep it up! :D


	10. Fathers

**Testament**

The next morning, Five headed off to Two's to work on the telescope some more. Nine wondered if he had tried to kiss Two yet. He had heard Five moaning in the night, knew he was probably dreaming about him, and found it extremely creepy, but still he couldn't help but wonder. Five was nearly eighteen, it wasn't as if it wasn't _legal_.

It bothered him.

Rather than dwell on the subject, however, Nine decided to go to Seven's house and surprise her. Maybe they would skateboard together, or have more sex, because he did very much like both of those things.

He already knew where she lived, having dropped her off at home before. He didn't like her house – she was richer than she let on. Her dad was the CEO of some company or another. Their house was huge, and beautiful, with a lawn and a pool and three Dobermans. He parked nervously in front of the walk and crept out of the car, as if afraid to dent the sidewalk. He rang the doorbell only once and stood far back from the door. He was surprised when she actually answered, because, although she lived there, she didn't like to be indoors.

She was pretty today. Her face was free of makeup and she was wearing cropped black sweatpants that said JUICY across the back, and Nine couldn't agree more.

"Hey!" she said, and smiled, looking genuinely pleased and surprised. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to stop by," he said lamely, even though it was true.

She gave him a puzzled look, smiling still, and stood aside. "Well come in, take off your shoes in the foyer, Lisa will kill you if you track dirt on the carpet or scuff the hardwood or breathe too heavily."

Nine didn't really know what a foyer was, so he just peeled off his shoes wherever Seven pointed.

"I was just working out," she explained, guiding him towards their exercise room. It was a gym inside of the house, with a fountain in it, and a radio. Nine was baffled. "Do you want some lemonade, or something?"

"No, I'm good," Nine said weakly. He stared up at the ceilings, which were so high. "Where's your dad?"

"Somewhere. I don't know. He won't bother you, I don't think."

Something surprising about Seven: when he had first met her, she had rarely spoken at all. But when he got her going now, she could really carry on. Presently, she popped a mint and leaned back against the wall, letting her hips lean out in that way she did. She probably knew that Nine liked it.

"I've never met your dad," he said, wishing he'd had a better plan to start with.

She got a slow grin on her face, and cracked her knuckles. "Do you want to?"

"Oh, no, I'm good, I was just…" But she was already grabbing his wrist and pulling him down the hallway. When she was certain he was following, she let him go, and led the way.

Nine didn't really want to meet her dad. In his opinion, all dads were bastards, and he didn't want to deal with this one as long as he could get away with it.

Down the very, very long hallway was her father's study. The door was open just a crack, and inside Nine could hear some quiet, classical music playing. Seven leaned against the doorframe and called inside. "Pop? Hey." There was a pause as someone spoke from inside. "Nine's here. He wanted to meet you."

More muffled words. Then silence. More words.

Seven looked back at him with a triumphant smirk. "Go on, then," she said, and pushed him inside.

Her father was sitting at a desk located in a circle of bookshelves. A light hung low from the ceiling and bathed everything in a warm, quiet light. Her Pop was leaned back in his chair, his hands folded over his middle, and he raised a slow eyebrow at the sight of Nine, looking him over slowly and meticulously, sorting him out and sizing him up. Nine felt very small.

"Another one of those skater types, Seven?" her father drawled presently, and Nine hung his head. "You can do better. I thought we discussed this."

"He's a nice kid," Seven said, and there was an edge of defensiveness in her tone Nine had never heard before. She stood beside him in her workout clothes. He wondered if she still had his hoodie. He wanted it back.

"Nice kid, huh?" That steely gaze turned back to Nine, who tried to stand straighter.

"Sir…" he started.

"Call me One. God knows Seven does it, too."

"I did when I was twelve, maybe."

He ignored her, leaning forward onto his desk as if this would help bring more details of Nine into focus. He looked quite like his daughter, with his sharp chin and jaw, his high cheekbones, deeply defined. His eyes were a light blue, like hers, and just as piercing, almost pretty. His nose was more prominent, with a slight bump at the bridge, not thick but long. His hair had once been blond, but was graying out, tied back into a small knot on the back of his head. His lips were thin with age, but those eyes were still so sharp and alert… Nine felt weak under them. One still looked relatively young, but for the worry lines on his forehead, the parentheses around his mouth, and the long scar that scrabbled down between his eyes – from what? The poor guy looked delicate, too, not like Seven, who was meaty and vital. He had probably been very handsome when he was younger, Nine thought.

"You look like the sort of boy who gets into trouble. You're the one who was in the hospital."

Nine opened his mouth and then closed it. "Yeah, I guess."

"You _guess_ you had a concussion?"

"I was. Yeah."

"Am I correct to assume that Seven put you up to it? She does it often. Disobedient."

Seven put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. He realized that she looked comically like her father, and laughter threatened to bubble up. The similarity was striking.

"You know I only want to protect you," One said to Seven presently. "You're my only daughter."

"I can look after myself."

He sighed a whispering, papery kind of sigh and scribbled something on his notepad. The long sleeves of his blood-colored robe dragged over the desk. "I know you think you can. You keep running off, one of these days I'll just have Lisa lock you out."

"Whatever." Seven popped a mint, frowning, and Nine had never seen her this way before, rebellious, put down, minimized somehow. "You're bluffing."

"I don't bluff."

"Anyway, I just wanted you to meet him."

One glanced up and cocked an eyebrow the same way Seven did, as if he had completely forgotten Nine was even there. "Yes. Very well. Is that all?"

Silence. Seven ground her teeth.

"Then be off. I have work to do." And he looked down at his paper, and it was if they had never existed.

Seven marched out the door, and Nine followed helplessly, glancing back at her father, eerily spotlighted by his reading light, and he wondered where she had come from, this loud adventurous girl from such a reserved old man.

"He likes you, I think," she said as they left, and Nine wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic.

She led him back to the exercise room and proceeded to beat the living shit out of a hanging punching bag. Nine watched, sipping some lemonade every once and a while. He waited for her to speak.

She never really did. When she was tired enough to be panting, her hands raw, she led him up to her room, and Nine would have been embarrassed to do this, here, in her house with her father in it – but it was such a large house, it seemed as if he was miles away, and when she reached for his belt buckle his protests died on his tongue.

He thought about Five, tinkering with Two in his garage, measuring glass and metal, the two of them staring hard at each other, wrapped in each other like this, and he was coldly horrified.

Glancing over at Seven, Nine saw her thoughtful scowl, and realized she was still fuming over her father. She didn't even see him, lying naked beside her.

--

Nine woke up sometime in the afternoon, still undressed and sprawled in Seven's bed. He sat up and wondered briefly where he was before he saw her shape in the corner. She had a living room in her bedroom, of sorts – a black leather couch and a plasma television across from it. She was playing a bloody game, shooting things, sitting there in her underwear. Nine wondered how she couldn't worry about someone walking in on them like this. She was eating Skittles.

"Hey," Nine said quietly.

"Hey," she replied, glancing at him and throwing him a smile. "What's going on, Sleeping Beauty?"

"You tell me." He rubbed his eyes and pawed around for his underpants.

"You got a text. Pants by the door. Didn't check it, just heard it go off." She cocked an eyebrow, not looking at him. "_My lovely lady lumps_?"

"Five did it. He thinks it's funny," Nine said with a grin, getting up to check his message.

It was from Six. _Three poked me. He smells like lemon, don't know why. Five is back._

It was adorable, really. Six had a thorough crush on Three, and most of his texts to Nine involved their "favorite" twin in some way. Nine wasn't sure why he had so many gay ("bisexual," according to Six) friends, but that was a conversation for another day.

"Sounds like Six needs me," he said now, looking back at Seven, and felt distanced from her.

"Uh huh? All right." She bit her lip and the _puh-puh-puh_ of gunfire sped up on the television.

Nine dressed silently, sighing. He found his hoodie hanging from a hook on the wall and reclaimed it with a feeling of relief. "See you later?"

"I guess. Depends."

"Probably." He hesitated there by the door, feeling dirty all over. He knew the twins would notice immediately that something was off, and he didn't want to deal with their prodding and questions.

"Bye, then."

"Bye, Seven." He wanted to say something else, couldn't. He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

--

When he showed up at Six's house, there was an explosion of motion. Six was slumped against the wall with a bloody nose and the twins were fussing over him, and Five was panicking, flailing left and right, and for some reason his eye patch was missing.

"What the hell?" Nine asked. Five latched onto him immediately. He smelled sugary, kind of cinnamon-y, and Nine wasn't used to him smelling like that, was confused.

"Six was bending to pick up his pencil and Three went to get it and he stood up and he hit Six in the face with his _thick_ skull and broke his nose."

Four signed something angrily.

"What'd he say?" Nine asked, feeling tired and irritated.

"He said it's not broken. I _know_, sorry, I got carried away." Five scowled. "I almost had a heart attack."

Six, who didn't know how to put his head back for a bloody nose, coughed and sputtered as he continued to bleed out. He sprayed red on the carpet and Three frantically tried to tip his head back, but Six kept sitting up again, and staring at him in confusion.

"All right, get off of him," Nine muttered, taking Three's place. "Six, focus. Pinch your nose, like this, put your head back, stare at the ceiling."

Six did as he was told, his eyes glassy in surprise.

Behind them, Three rubbed his head, frowning, and signed something to Four, who signed back swiftly before smacking him on the arm. Three sulked.

"You all right?"

"Tastes bad," Six said quietly, his voice wet.

Nine smiled, glad it wasn't more serious. "Yeah, buddy, I know. You okay, though?"

Six nodded, and Nine had to instruct him to tilt his head back again.

"Smelled good, though," he mumbled, and this made Nine laugh. "Lemony," Six continued, and Nine laughed harder, gently ruffling Six's springy hair.

Five hesitated behind them, and Nine glanced at him, couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. "Where's your eye patch, man?"

At this, Five shrugged, and his gaze hit the floor and stuck there. He sucked on his lip.

They would have to talk later.

-- **to be continued**

So now you know who One is! Makes sense, hopefully, yeah? I did like the ideas I was hearing earlier about him being Five's father (I hadn't considered that angle, VERY observant, you guys are so cool), and the only thing that kept me from doing that is that One isn't exactly the whole "beat up your son" kinda guy... He might employ Eight to do it, though, haha.

Please do let me know what you think! I can't know what I'm doing right and wrong without your feedback. :D


	11. Run

**Testament**

"What happened?"

"Huh?" Five fixed his eye on something near Nine's left ear. He fidgeted, putting his hands in his pockets and taking them out again as if he wasn't sure what to do with them.

"Something happened. Was it your dad?"

"Nuh uh. No." Five shook his head and stared at the floor. His face looked so naked, so broad and open, without his eye patch. He had a spare, but it was back at home – not that it mattered. He usually used a strip of fabric or something as a backup when he lost it, and it was strange that he wasn't doing it now.

Nine sat on the bed, listening to the sound of Six murmuring to the twins out in the living room, laughing sometimes, a high, reedy sound that was sweet and quite rare.

"You're a bad liar. Talk to me. I thought…" He couldn't finish the sentence, didn't want to sound desperate. It seemed like all of their trust and communication had broken down, and he couldn't remember where the decay had started, felt lost without that connection they'd always shared.

"It's nothing," Five said, and jerked as if he wanted to sit by Nine and had decided against it at the last second. He sighed, and bit his lip hard. "Just… Two."

"Did he do something?" Nine asked warily.

A blush chased up Five's neck, overtook his ears and cheeks and nose, and while normally Nine found it endearing, he was presently alarmed. This was a very bad sign. Five stared at the ground again and twisted his toe into the carpet shyly, like a scolded child. He swayed back and forth and then searched the sky as if it would provide the words he needed. "Umm…"

"What did he do to you?" Nine didn't realize it, but his voice pitched up a little bit in panic. But Five's body language wasn't like anything Nine had seen from him before – timid, embarrassed, and… something else, something Nine hadn't seen, couldn't place.

When he spoke, his voice was nearly a whisper. "It just kind of happened…"

Nine's mouth dried up.

Five ran a hand over the blank place of his scar, up to his hair, pushing it back out of his face. He sighed. "We were just working, and he leaned over me, and he was so warm, and he smelled so good, cinnamon-y, and I just kind of… I don't know what I was thinking, I shouldn't have…"

"Oh, _God, Five_…"

"Don't, don't do that, Nine, please…" Five refused to look at him. "I mean, he tried to tell me no, and everything, but things just sort of… It was all out of hand, it was… Anyway, he was… And we…" He made an obscure forward motion with his hands, and if it wasn't for the situation, Nine wouldn't have had a clue what he was implying, but then it struck home and he felt suddenly very sick, the image flashing through his mind, and a horrified sound came from the pit of him like a convulsion.

"You _didn't_, please tell me you _didn't_, not with _him_, oh _God_…"

"Don't! Oh, don't!" Five's voice cracked and he was near tears. He covered his mouth with one hand, the other pressed over his stomach as if he would be sick, too.

"He's so old! He's not _right_, not for you! How could you?"

"I don't _know_! It just sort of happened!"

"That's _so_ fucked up! He's using you!" The words came out of Nine's mouth, he saw them hit Five with the weight of bricks, but he couldn't hear them, couldn't stop them.

"Stop it! Just stop!" Five put his face in his hands and made a low, moaning, sobbing sound. "I hate it. I hate myself. I've never…"

"I know! You… Y-You…"

"Fucking virgin! I was a _virgin_! _God_!" Five's voice edged towards hysteria. He sunk abruptly towards the floor and Nine made a weak attempt to stop him falling, failed, and Five knelt hard on the bedroom carpet and hiccupped, tears spilling over his ruddy cheek now.

Nine couldn't draw breath to speak. He hitched in a few pathetic puffs of air, but nothing would come. He felt shell shocked, numbed all over.

The stupidest question came out of his mouth, then. "Are you going to go back?"

Five didn't answer. He hunched on the floor. "Please don't hate me, please don't…"

"I don't hate you, I don't hate you, please…"

"So fucked up. I'm so… Freak. Such a freak."

Nine wanted to hold him, felt sick at the thought of touching him, thought about Two, _touching _him, putting those aging hands on him, everywhere unseen and unmarked and untainted, and he felt angry, he felt coldly hateful, and without thinking he punched the wall hard enough to bleed. The wall held up; Nine's knuckles didn't, so much.

"Don't," Five whimpered from below him. "Don't, anymore… come here."

Nine couldn't. He made a low noise, like a cry, and he flung open the door and ran. He ran by Six and the twins in the living room, and they frowned at the sight of him, but he kept going, burst out into the afternoon air and found it to be raining, thundering, storming. He sprinted out into it, let the water swallow him and wash him clean.

--

"You know what's funny?" Seven said as they jogged down the dawn-dusted street. The sky was a hazy red with the sunrise, the air wet but cool and sharp, chilling their sweat-touched skin.

"Nope," Nine said, buying in, trying to keep pace with her. He didn't like jogging, personally, but Seven apparently had a habit of it and wanted him to participate, and he appreciated the gesture.

"When I first met you, I totally thought you were gay."

Nine laughed, which made him short for breath. "I thought you were gay, too."

"What? Nah," she said, but she was smirking. "I mean, I've experimented before, and all."

This made Nine stop, gasping for air, and he gawked at her. She stopped a few feet ahead of him and put her hands on her hips with an impatient look, and although she put on a front of not being tired, he saw her speedy breathing through her nose. Nine spoke, trying not to laugh. "Seriously?"

"Huh? Sure. Didn't see why not." She took the break as an opportunity to stretch and have a drink of water. "Can't get enough of the whole boy scene, though. They just do it better."

Nine thought about this image, stored it away for later. "You're something else."

"You haven't, then? With boys?"

"What? _No_."

"Huh. Full of surprises."

"So are you." He raised an eyebrow at her to prove his point.

She only smiled at him and took off down the sidewalk again, and he followed after her helplessly, lungs burning, legs aching.

Nine spent the rest of his morning with Seven. They didn't do much. They skated for a little while, went bowling, had lunch. When it was time for her to go to another one of her classes, they parted with a lukewarm kiss that left Nine wondering. She was as she had always been – cool, aloof, snarky and kind. He found himself stumbling to keep up with her, wondering how much of her energy was invested in it.

As he drove around for no reason other than to drive, he wondered how Five had felt. He had received a plethora of messages from him and the twins, but he didn't want to read any of them, knew what would be in them. He didn't need to hear it, because he knew it already. But every time he started thinking of talking with them again, he thought of Two, bending Five gently over, his best friend, vulnerable, sweet Five, and he would grip the steering wheel until his knuckles hurt and a flood of rage and betrayal would overtake him so hard he could hardly see. He thought about showing up at the old man's door and breaking his Jewish nose and kicking him when he hit the floor until he regretted every last second of ever _looking_ at Five, of ever _thinking_ about him, about ever _daring_ to reach out and take him. He wanted to draw blood, break skin…

But he didn't. He drove around and around and ignored the buzz of his cell phone, the calls and texts he didn't need. The twins would just chew him out, and Six would text him about the different smells around the house and the "color" of Five's tears, and Five would… Five would do something. Nine wasn't sure what. But he didn't want to hear excuses, or justification. He had fucked a dirty old man, who deserved to be in jail…

An idea struck him suddenly, and he drove over to Two's house. The guy lived in a nice-looking house in the suburbs, two bedrooms, with a shed in the back yard where he tinkered and created and, apparently, screwed teenage boys.

He passed in front of the powder-blue house twice, and on the third time he finally pulled over against the opposite curb and stared at it. He wondered if Two was actually home. He wondered if he got out and knocked on the door, if the guy would answer, what he would say if he saw Nine standing there, if he would have the nerve to feel ashamed.

But he couldn't. Couldn't.

He slammed the flat of his palm against the steering wheel in frustration and started the long drive home.

--

His house was blessedly deserted when he arrived. His mother was either working or bar-hopping again, and Five was probably still at Six's house. The house smelled kind of stale, so Nine opened a window, turned on some of the more quiet music he generally enjoyed, and made himself some pasta his mother had saved in some Tupperware. He sat alone in the house, dark, without the lights turned on, and ate in silence.

He thought about Seven. Her pretty face. Her willful attitude. Her casual approach to everything. He thought, maybe he loved her. He had a strong feeling for her, he figured, a deep feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about her, tinged with horniness and, maybe, a kind of hint of wanting for that motherly affection she doled out, petting his hair, wiping smudges of dirt from his face, dusting off his clothes. He liked how sharp and intelligent she was, but not intimidating with it, how playful, how free, even with her busy schedule and her many hobbies and her father's overwhelming expectations.

He thought about her pale hair and pale skin and pale shirt against the crisp blue of the sky. When he thought of her, he thought of mid-day, the brightest part of the day, the most secure, blue, blue blue. Solidness, security, her feet planted on the ground, ready to run and vanish and never resurface – but not yet, currently in a state of non-motion, steady, waiting, as if to encounter an incredible force. Her taciturn way, her unpredictability, the power and passion behind every action.

He wanted her. Did he love her?

For some reason, Five always reminded him of red, warmth, the sunrise in summer, the humid air blurring the definitions of orange and gold and pink. He reminded Nine of beginnings, fragile, sweet.

He poked himself in the chin with his fork on accident, set the plate down, not really hungry. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.

Did she even care? Did she think about him, like he thought about her?

For some reason, he couldn't help feeling that she didn't. Wasn't thinking of him unless she was bored.

It hurt him. He choked back some more of his pasta and went to sleep.

--

He woke to a sticky note being slapped on his forehead. Hard.

Flailing awake, he batted away the assaulting twins, who proceeded to poke and tickle and pinch him until he was yelling and laughing and crying all at once.

"Stop it! Crazy motherfuckers!"

They stared at him with dark, soulful eyes as he peeled the sticky note off of his forehead.

_Where the fuck did you go? Five almost had an aneurism._

Four scrawled out another note and put it on Nine's upturned hand.

_He cried and cried. What did you do, asshole_?

"Don't judge. You don't know," Nine muttered, crumpling up the sticky notes.

They glowered at him and launched another attack, pinning him to the couch, and this time Three sucked on his finger and stuck it in Nine's ear while Four went to give him a purple nurple.

"Auuugh! Fine, you bastards!" He struggled free and stood on the opposite side of the room, arming himself with a rolled-up magazine. "I'll talk to him, all right? What time is it, anyway?"

They held up their fingers. 9:00. That wasn't so bad.

"Where's he at?"

Three scribbled out another note, a short one.

_Seven's._

Oh God. Oh God.

-- **to be continued**

This is one of my favorite chapters. The ball is rolling now. I don't really know what else to say aside from this... I'm glad you guys were so enthusiastic about One being Seven's dad. I thought it was fitting, the way they bickered so much and how she kept running off and antagonizing him. Now, even though Nine is really mad at Two, I personally like Two. Just so you know. Two is one of my favorites.

Some of my readers are more intuitive than others and always know what's coming. I hope that's not a sign that I'm being too transparent, haha. XD You guys are fantastic, keep it up! It's a real joy to see what you're thinking and wondering about. I will answer any questions, by the way... I can't remember if I specified that. Anyway... let me know what you think! :3


	12. Absent

**Testament**

Seven opened the door with a completely sour look on her face, her legs planted apart like she was going to punch him, her hand gripping the doorknob until the knuckles were white. When her eyes hit Nine's face, her lips thinned out and her eyes narrowed. She reminded him of his mother.

"Where the fuck _were_ you?"

"Where's Five?" He moved to come in and she stopped him with her hand, pushed him back outside, and closed the door behind her. The entirety of her body brushed against his, and even though this wasn't the right time for it, he was hot all over again.

"You left him, why did you leave him?" she hissed in his ear, as if she couldn't stand to look him in the face. "Shit, I don't even know him, and I can tell he's delicate. He needs you."

"I can't look after everybody!" Nine cried. "All of the time! I can't do it!"

"I know," she said, and her voice was gentler now. She looked him in the eyes now, seemed to be searching him over.

"Why is he even here? He doesn't like you." The words came out before Nine could stop them.

Seven smiled, not offended. "I know. But he started lighting shit on fire, and they called in the cavalry." She thumbed to herself. "Pop's not happy about a bunch of riff-raff in his house, but it's keeping Five mellow, so I guess that's all we can do, right?" She paused, seeming to draw from some inner strength. "Look, I don't know what happened with him, but he's obviously shaken up about it. I mean, he's not hysterical, it's not like he had a breakdown. But he really needs you, man."

"I guess. Okay. I guess."

"Watch after him. I just have a feeling." She kissed him, and her mouth was cold, her fingertips colder.

Nine returned the gesture more out of habit than anything and slipped by her to see how Five was doing. He found him sitting on the floor of her living room with Six and the twins flanking him and eating popcorn. They were watching _Forrest Gump_ – probably because Seven didn't have a sufficient stash of cheesy horror movies. For a minute, Nine lingered in the doorway, just watching them, before Five caught sight of him, and the cautious peace that had been on his face crumpled from the inside out.

"I thought if I gave you a day to cool down, it wouldn't be so bad," Nine said softly, and Five lunged for him, captured him in a crushing hug. Nine gasped for air and hugged him back as hard as he could, seeming to meld into that familiar form of Five's body, the broader shoulders, thin frame, and for a moment he felt as if he was supporting him, his whole weight, and he could do it.

"I'm so sorry," Nine muttered into Five's shoulder. "All right?"

At the same time, Five was whispering, "Sorry, sorry, sorry…" And the sounds overlapped.

"I feel so sick," Five said, detaching from Nine but still keeping his hands on him, as if afraid he would disappear. "I was afraid you'd hate me."

"_No_," Nine said, smiling, brushing some hair from Five's face. "Not ever. Not for something like that."

"You just seemed so… I don't know." Five frowned, and clammed up like boys did when emotion became too intense to communicate. Nine understood and continued to pet him, and little by little, Five began to relax.

The twins watched owlishly. Six ate the popcorn while they weren't looking.

"You handled this crisis really poorly, man," Nine said with a grin, and Five laughed nervously.

"He was just so…" Five started, and Nine wanted to shut him up, didn't want to hear about Two anymore, ever again. "I mean, I think I was more surprised than anything that it was just… over like that. I didn't realize… Nine, it was… I think I love him."

That wasn't what Nine wanted to hear. He felt sick. Shaking his head, he pushed Five off of him, and Five hung on.

"Wait! Please don't, please."

"It's wrong, okay? I mean, he's just a creep, doing that to you. You'll have his class this year, you know? You'll see him every day and he'll look at you, and he'll know…"

"I know, I know! But, Nine, he told me he loved me, and no… no one's ever…"

Nine shut up then. Five stared hard at the floor, his breath coming in uneven spikes. For a minute, a fragile, spiraling moment, they were parallel, looking through the same eyes, both flooded with hurt and understanding. Everything paused in time, the faint drizzle of rain, and all Nine could feel was numbness, the pressure of Five's hand on his arm, that sense of _knowing_ that tasted bitter.

"No one's ever said it," Nine said quietly, and Five nodded, slumped against him again, and Nine held him even though he didn't want to.

"It was so good, hearing it," Five said. "I wanted that more than anything. He loves me, Nine."

"He doesn't, he…"

"No, no, he _does_…"

Nine didn't know what to say. He frowned at Six, who snuggled closer to the twins and shrugged. Four's face was twisted up with disgust and confusion, and Three's mouth was full of popcorn, so he only succeeded in looking stupid.

Five spoke in a whisper. "I love him, and it's wonderful."

"Stupid," Nine muttered, pulling Five to him, hiding his face in the scruffy red-brown hair.

Five laughed tiredly, as if he agreed.

--

"Show's over, folks, bar's closing. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here," Seven announced as she nudged Nine awake with the toe of her sneaker. "Except for you. You can stay, if you want to."

Moaning, Nine covered his eyes with his arm. Five buried his face harder into his stomach, which hurt and tickled all at once, cinching his arms around Nine's hips, and Nine wondered when they had fallen asleep. "No," Nine croaked up at Seven, trying to find her face in the blur, "I should probably go home with Five…"

"Good deal," Seven said, and although her tone was neutral, she was frowning.

The twins rolled off of the couch and landed in a heap on top of Six, who yelped in surprise.

It wasn't until he was halfway home that Nine realized he had just denied himself sex. "_Fuck_!" he exploded, hitting the steering wheel and jarring Five awake.

"What!?"

"Nothing," Nine muttered, but then he began to smile, and then he began to laugh.

The drive home was companionable and pleasant.

--

School started at the beginning of the month. Nine loved nothing about it. He didn't like the rigidity of the schedule, even with his art and physical education classes and open period after lunch (which he shared with Five, Seven, and the twins, and which was an enjoyable paradise in the middle of the day, when they would sprawl out on the warm grass and laugh and talk). He didn't like his inability to ask questions, to really dig into a subject, because of the dumber children who complained if he held up class for too long, and the teacher who would ignore him if he raised his hand too much. He didn't like how little he saw Five – only for painting class, lunch, and English, which Five missed about twenty percent of the time because he was getting stoned. Nine also didn't like how rarely he saw Seven – at lunch and in PE only.

Trudging from his (extremely dull) calculus class to his (also extremely dull) government class, Nine wondered how Five would fare through shop class today. He always had shop right before lunch, and he always turned up flustered, absent-minded, bumbling and shy and smiley. Two taught shop class, liked the hands-on creation, and he urged Five to make more complex structures than the other kids, because he was so gifted. Nine wondered if other students caught on to the looks they gave each other, the tone and cadence of their voices, the unnecessary touching…

Nine walked into another boy, who scowled at him, and Nine apologized tiredly.

He more or less slept through government. Nothing happened in that class, anyway. They looked at political cartoons and the teacher carried on pointlessly for an hour, and Nine would entertain himself by watching the two cute girls in the right hand corner, who tittered and giggled and texted all period. They liked to wear tank tops and short-shorts, but he didn't like their hair – too long, too curled, and thick.

The twins, sitting beside him, shared in his obsession, and it was kind of awkward. They scribbled pictures back and forth to each other. Nine wasn't sure why they didn't take special classes, because although they were perfectly normal in every way, they were, after all, mute. He didn't mind, though, enjoyed their company.

When lunch came, Nine slumped into the grass bonelessly and pretended to sleep. They'd only been in school for a month and a half, but it felt like forever. He felt so regimented, constricted. The twins piled on top of him, and he laughed, ruffling their hair.

Five arrived then with a sloppy joe, pushing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich towards Nine almost shyly. "Two gave it to me, when I mentioned that you started skipping lunch," he said softly, and he searched Nine's eyes for approval. "Isn't he sweet? Right?"

"I guess," Nine muttered, biting into the sandwich and wondering if it was laced with roofies.

They waited another twenty minutes, talking, eating, watching the bugs, before Seven's absence became too apparent to ignore.

"I'm sure she just got held up, or something," Five said, and he didn't sound very concerned at all.

The twins raised their eyebrows at each other. Three had been subtly texting Six all throughout government and lunch, Nine noticed. Four kept texting Nine himself, with irritating puns and "yo momma" jokes.

Curious, Nine texted her. She was usually the first one there, coming straight out of orchestra class. He didn't get an answer from her.

It wasn't a big deal, though, and they went about their business without worrying much.

"Two asked me to stay after school," Five said just moments before the bell rang. He wouldn't look Nine in the eyes. "To work some more on our next thing, um… So you can go, without me."

"I don't want to," Nine said, zipping and unzipping his hoodie. "But I will."

"I know," Five replied in a whisper. "Thank you."

Nine couldn't answer, was afraid of what he would say if he tried.

Seven didn't show up in PE class, either. Nine wondered if she was sick.

--

Seven almost always topped during sex. Nine wondered if this was because he was so weak in her eyes. She never looked at him, either, and he wasn't sure if he minded.

She always told him he was overenthusiastic, too. It was in his nature to go at things with his best effort. He wondered if he annoyed her with his exuberance, but he found it nearly painful to restrain himself. He wondered if his enthusiasm was a result of his affection his temperament. Perhaps she secretly enjoyed it, missed it when he tried to hold back. Maybe.

He thought about it more and more as she remained suspiciously absent. It wasn't just that she was gone, which wasn't surprising, because she was so busy during the school year with sports, speech and debate, mathletes, extra lessons, tutoring, fencing club, and the plethora of other activities her father involved her in – but the surprising part was that she had also stopped speaking. After the third day, he called, and she didn't answer. There was no sign of her the fifth day, or finally on the eighth day.

"She probably has the flu," Five said as they skated, taking advantage of the weather before fall came hard.

"I guess. But why isn't she answering her phone?" Nine pulled a weak ollie and landed on his face.

"Maybe her dad took it from her," Five replied, clearly not in the mood to discuss it. He stooped to pick Nine back up, dusting him off with a tired smile. "Don't worry so much, it's not like she died."

"I know," Nine said, and he genuinely wasn't too concerned, mostly just confused. He felt his nose and, when he was sure it wasn't bleeding, he tried again. "I was just wondering."

Five gave him a hard, searching look, and Nine felt trapped under it. When he looked away, he didn't explain it, and Nine felt more lost than ever.

-- **to be continued**

Hey guys! This is an important chapter, even though nothing is really happening. It's a good transition.

I was thinking of doing Testament-universe side-fics, such as Five and Two's interaction, which would be uploaded after this fic is finished to prevent spoilers from leaking. Let me know if you think this is a good idea, mkay? :3 In fact, if you like it, don't be afraid to give me some of your ideas! I'd love to hear it.

That's about it. Have a wonderful day! And thanks so much for reading.


	13. Bleed

**Testament**

When Nine woke up in the morning, he found Five piled in his bed. This was completely typical and he didn't think twice about it, smiling at his friend and ruffling his hair to wake him, and was surprised when that hazel eye readily flashed up to meet his own.

"You were already up?" Nine asked, a little surprised. Five was rarely awake before Nine, and usually when he realized he had snuggled up in the middle of the night he would feel embarrassed enough to get out of the bed. But instead, his arm tightened a little around Nine's middle, causing Nine to let out a little gasp as air was pushed out of his lungs.

"She's marrying him again."

"Huh?" It was too early for this.

"Mom. She's… with Dad…"

"Oh. _Oh_. Oh. I see." Frowning, Nine rubbed at his own tired eyes. He looped one arm lazily around Five's shoulders, and this seemed to ease some of his tension.

It smelled like morning. The air was calm and warm, and the sun was coming through the window in shades of gold, lighting up Five's eyes and hair and catching off of his wide, pouting mouth, which was glistening slightly with his sleep-drool. His face looked soft, vulnerable, young. That rounded face, that handsome face, Nine knew very well, had seen without the open blank space where his missing eye once was.

"What are you going to do?" Nine ventured, catching the shadow of his mother in the doorframe, the way her eyebrows pitched up worriedly and she bit her lip and scuttled away. To him, she seemed so small. She had let his father walk away and hadn't had the nerve to pick up his mess.

"I don't know," Five whispered. He rested his cheek on Nine's shoulder, and Nine felt his breath, hot and stale, on his neck. His body was warm, draped over him, comfortingly, familiarly heavy. "She wants me to come back home. Says she misses me."

"Huh. I guess. Do you want to?"

Five shook his head. "I don't know." A pause, and then, with dark conviction, "I hate him."

"Dads are bastards, Five."

For a minute, Five squeezed him so tightly that Nine's sides ached, and then he let go with a hiss of air, as if he was letting all of the infection out.

"Please, be there, okay?"

"Be where?"

"Just, anywhere, for me. I need…"

"I get it. I know."

"Okay…" Then, in a smaller voice, as if in self-affirmation, "Okay."

Nine nodded, stroking Five's hair, staring up at the poster of Metallica.

"Thank you," Five murmured, and Nine smiled.

"Only for you. You know that, yeah?"

"Yeah." He pushed himself off of Nine at last and went to shower.

Nine rolled over and checked his phone. No messages from Seven. One from Six, talking about the color of Three's eyes, how they were apparently two shades lighter than Four's. Whatever.

--

"Everyone in my life is gay," Nine muttered as he skated down the avenue. It was Sunday, and still not a peep from Seven. It was as if she had been wiped off of the face of the earth.

He remembered when Five had first come out, how completely unsurprised he had been, his impression untainted by previous information, as he had only known Five for about a year, and yet they had bonded so well. He hadn't minded at all, all of the times that they had already shared a bed, a meal, how often they had seen each other nude in gym class or whenever else. It didn't matter. It was a facet of unimportant information, about as relevant as commenting on Six's race or the twins' hair color. Five didn't change after the revelation, either, remained just as masculine as he had ever been, which sometimes wasn't very much and sometimes was quite a lot. Nine respected him for that.

He remembered the first time Five had gotten a bloody nose for being gay. Nine had leapt into the fight without a second thought and had gotten his ass thoroughly handed to him, but it had been worth it, because in the end they had been too tired out to bother with Five afterwards.

Six had come out in typical Six style, just kind of whispering it in the middle of _Screaming Bottom Feeders from Outer Space_ – that the protagonist was hot, and had a nice ass, and everyone had laughed.

The twins liked boobs. There was really no getting around that.

Nine wasn't sure why he attracted so many people with an interest for the same gender. It didn't bother him, but it made him an easy target, and it was a curious phenomenon. Even his girlfriend had dabbled in what Nine affectionately called "The Dark Arts."

He was on his way to visit Seven, just to check in, since she had been gone for nine days now without a word. Five was already on his way back to his own house… to do God knows what.

He reached Seven's house after a little while, having taken the scenic route, and was surprised that, when he rang the doorbell, her father answered.

"One," he said, and his amazement must have been evident, because One scowled at him.

"What are you doing bothering people in the middle of the day?"

"I'm sorry, sir…" Nine shuffled his feet uneasily. "I was wondering if Seven was home?"

One's eyes narrowed, and Nine felt nervous, penetrated by that stare. "She's out."

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Persistent, aren't you?" One's mouth thinned out and he continued to search Nine with those sharp eyes, seeming to miss nothing. He sized Nine up and broke him down to every last molecule.

Nine didn't say anything, just stood there, feeling a little irritated now with the scrutiny.

"She's been out all week," One said at last. He cocked an eyebrow. "I assumed she was with _you_, living in sin, but I see that I was mistaken." Right. Nine had forgotten that Seven's father was a strict Catholic. "I long stopped paying attention to her flights of rebellion. She does it for attention, and I'd rather not foster the behavior."

So, apparently Seven did this quite often.

"This is the longest she's been out in a while, though," One said thoughtfully. "The last time was when we fired the nanny…"

Nine sighed. "So, you don't know where she is, or when she'll be back?"

"Are you deaf, boy? That's what I just said. Is that all you want?"

"I… suppose, sir."

"Wonderful. Goodbye." And One closed the door in Nine's face.

Well, _that_ had been incredibly useful.

Not.

--

With nothing left to do, Nine went to go visit Six and the twins, who were studying for their calculus test. They had gotten a different teacher than Nine, which was a bummer for him. Of course, they were all bright, and all had an affinity for math, Nine realized, and he thought it was a little strange.

Something seemed a little off about Six. Maybe he had laid off of the medication a bit. His thoughts jumped around and sometimes he muttered to himself, starting back to reality when someone spoke to him. But he was more or less lucid, so nobody commented.

After about an hour, in which calculus had become tic-tac-toe, which had become drawings of boobs and exploding bombs and Godzilla, which had become watching _Vampires versus Werewolves: ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE_, Four passed a note to Nine, almost tenderly placing it on his knee.

_Where's Five_?

"Back home," Nine said. "His mom's getting married to his dad, again."

Three frowned and Four, scowling, scribbled out another note.

_What the bloody fucking fuck?_

"Don't cuss at me, the fuck if I know," Nine muttered.

Three slapped a note on him, kind of hard. _Why did you leave him alone, fucktard_?

"Can we stop with the fuck, please? He didn't ask me to come, you know."

The twins looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Four looked grumpier. He scrawled a note and stuck it against Nine's face forcefully.

_Well, go see him, you stupid fuck_.

"Thanks, assholes," Nine muttered, and thumped them both, which made them all laugh. "I'll be right back."

They settled in to watch the movie again, thoroughly ignoring him. Six climbed into their lap and nestled in their twinly warmth. They buttered him up appropriately. Sighing, Nine zipped up his hoodie, hopped on his skateboard, and was gone.

--

The way to Five's house meant passing by Nine's house. He thought about stopping in and grabbing something to eat, and then decided against it. He slowed as he passed by, though, noticing that the lights were out – not a surprise, considering his mom was never home anyway – and that there was a lump of something on the doorstep. A package? It was brown and kind of hunched, like a bag.

Nine considered passing it by and just coming back later, but it looked like it would rain soon, and anyway, he couldn't help being curious. It was in his nature, and sometimes he got curious about things that ended up hurting him in the end. Like, "_What happens if you stick a fork in the garbage disposal_?" or, "_Can cats swim_?"

So, taking a brief detour, Nine hopped off of his skateboard and trotted up to the porch. The air was cool and still, and full of static because of the impending storm. Everything smelled earthy and wet.

As he approached, the bag on the step began to take form, and belatedly he realized what it was, broke into a run. It wasn't a bag at all, but the shape of Five, curled up against the corner of the porch where two walls met at a right angle, hidden under the shape of his brown coat, only the tuft of red hair sticking up out of it, and one pale hand.

"What are you _doing_?" Nine exclaimed, kneeling down beside him and drawing him up into a hug.

He felt the wetness first, and pulled away, was alarmed to find a streak of blood across Five's forehead, red, shiny, horrifyingly familiar. The dark, blooming spots where bruises were starting to form, his bloody lip and nose and eyebrow. "_Oh_," he said, wiping at the mess with the sleeve of his hoodie. Some emotion heavy and painful sat in his chest. "Oh, _Five_."

"Don't, don't…" Five hiccupped, pressing into him, and he hissed and whimpered as Nine let his hands wander, mapping out the injuries of his face, his arms, his ribs. This was familiar, and terrible.

"What happened? Talk to me. Okay? Look, look." Nine got a hold of Five's chin, forced him to look at him, and that was when the tears started, hot and wet. "What happened?"

"Nine," Five whispered, and it was such a weak sound, a tiny crackling warble from the back of his throat, high and needy. "_Nine_…"

"It's okay, now. It's okay." Nine stroked Five's face tenderly as he spoke, needing to feel him there, all right. The blood smeared across his cheek. "Do you understand? What happened? Was it your dad?"

"Him, and h-his friends, his _b-buddies_… I-I… And my m-mom, she just _watched_, just _watched_, s-she… She didn't do _anything _and they h-hit her, too, oh God, I… C-Couldn't stop them, couldn't…"

Nine was angry, saw spots and hot colors. His jaw ached. He knew why they had done it, was sick with it. This wasn't new, but it hadn't quite been this bad before. Nine ducked his head and spoke against Five's soft, tousled hair. "I'll kill the bastards, all right? Okay? I'll dropkick every last one."

This made Five smile feebly, and let out a tiny laugh, and that was good enough for now. Nine held him to his chest, not caring about the bloodstains that would get on his shirt, needing to let Five know that he was there, he was _there_. Five hung onto him as if he was the last thread on the fabric of reality, and that if he let go he would soar up against the atmosphere, against the force of gravity, and be swallowed up by the storming sky. His breath was ragged and strong, and that was good, it was good.

Five spoke, and his voice was muffled, watery. "I'm _never _going back, never, never, _never_…"

"I wouldn't let you. You're never going back. You're with me, now. I'll take care of you. No one's going to lay a hand on you ever again. Won't let them." Nine didn't realize the panic in his own voice, the pain.

"I need you, Nine… Thank you, thank you, thank you…"

Nine wasn't sure how long they knelt there together, whispering, feeling, as the sky opened up around them, and the rain came down like a curtain.

**-- to be continued**

Sounds like there's a lot of support for the side-stories, so I'll definitely get around to making them once this fic is over.

I'm weirdly fond of One. I might write another 1x2 fic just because...

Anyway, you guys are fantastic. I'm not sure what else to say... So yeah. :3


	14. Break

OH GOSH! I'm so embarrassed! I posted Ch. 14 from Water on accident. Sorry, guys! Here's the fixed version.

**Testament**

The bastards had broken open Five's eyebrow, and that required stitches; some asshole had whacked him over the head with something hard, and his head was tender and he kept getting headaches; he had a fat scab on his busted lip, and he sucked on it until it bled again, and then he would be embarrassed; he had a big purple bruise across his jaw and cheek (really, it was two large bruises that had blended together into a singular massive bruise). His nose was sore, but not broken. He had a black eye, bruised ribs, bruises all down his chest and stomach. His mother, he said, had fared better, because they had been tired by the time they got to her, and anyway they were drunk.

"Are you feeling okay?" Nine whispered to him, sprawled across the couch Tuesday afternoon, with Five's head resting in his lap. He checked his phone – nothing from Seven.

"Better," Five mumbled, though that wasn't really an indication of anything. "Still tender as all hell, though."

"I bet. I bet." Nine ran his fingers gently over Five's hairline, and Five sighed pleasantly at the gentle touch, smiling and letting his eyes slide shut. Nine ghosted his fingertips over every last mark on Five's face, as if he could heal it with his own skin, and as he passed over the split lip, Five began to speak, and Nine wrenched his hand away as if burned.

"We'll need to go back to school tomorrow. Or you'll get behind."

"I know," Nine muttered. He didn't want to. "I didn't want to leave you here alone, until you were ready."

"I know… thank you. But I can go back, now, I think."

"You still looked pretty fucked up, man." Nine frowned. "People will ask."

"How about you say, I got in a bar fight?"

This made Nine laugh, and Five smiled feebly up at him.

"Love it," he said in a rasping, sleepy voice, "when you laugh."

"Uh huh?" Still grinning at the image of Five in a bar fight, Nine ruffled his friend's hair affectionately. It would probably be a gay bar, and that thought made him laugh all over again. Five would come home bruised _and_ covered in glitter, oh God!

"What are you thinking about?" Five asked, smiling. He sounded like an indulgent wife in the middle of the night, and this bothered Nine less than it should have – they were close friends, knew each other inside and out, it was only natural.

"Nothing important," Nine replied, feeling light and easy.

"I was thinking… about Two."

"Yeah?" Nine's smile evaporated. The last thing he wanted to hear about was Two the Amazing Statutory Rapist, and all of his Jew-y Jewish charm, and his thin-rimmed glasses, and how – oh _God, _how he wished he didn't know this, but Five liked to share – his tongue tasted like orange juice, and how his hands were gentle but callused from work, and this that and the other, and he liked classical rock, and blah blah blah, more illegal nastiness, his dick sprayed rainbows and unicorns and his kisses cured cancer, and his voice was of the angels and helped the blind to see, wasn't he _fantastic_, and so on and so forth…

Nine was prepared to hear more mentally scarring things, as Five prepped himself for his speech. He considered complaining, and then didn't, out of kindness.

But then Five said the most surprising thing, even more surprising than the sex: "I'm thinking about leaving him."

"I… Whuh?"

Eloquent. Nine felt like a brilliant wordsmith.

"It… feels wrong. To do this anymore. With him. I mean… it's…" Five floundered. "He keeps, _touching_ me, in class, and it's… I tell him, 'no,' and he just smiles a-and… People will start to notice, I know it, and it's not right. I don't like it anymore."

Any other time, Nine would have said something angry and inflammatory about Two and his geriatric sex methods, but he realized that now was the time for sympathy, and a rare opportunity for him to steer his best friend off of the _Retarded-Things-That-Will-Ruin-Your-Life_ road. So he followed his first instinct: defend Five at all costs. "He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

"No, not exactly… Something's just not right about it." Five bit his lip. "He won't let me alone, when we're together. And I do like him."

Nine's voice came out strange to his own ears. "I thought you _loved_ him."

"I'm not sure, anymore."

"All right, all right. So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to tell him no more. Nothing else." A long pause as Five mulled this idea over, and Nine had the liberty of looking straight down into his face. Five thought deeply, his eyebrows wrinkling, his mouth pulling tight and to the side. Finally, he said in a quiet voice, "Will you be there with me when I do?"

"Sure. I'd be happy to." Nine didn't plan on leaving Five alone with that creep during their break-up anyway. He'd read all sorts of shit about kidnappings and the last thing he wanted was for Five to become a sex slave in a cabin in the woods in the middle of Colorado where the police are too busy shooting pool to bother to save lives. Not on _Nine's_ watch, not _his_ best friend, no sir.

"I've got to tell him," Five said softly. "I can't do… it's just not right. He's wonderful, but… Maybe, maybe I'm overreacting – am I? I didn't… I don't _know_."

"Dump the bastard," Nine said, his voice barely more than a whisper, but he felt so powerful, saying it.

Five looked into his eyes for a long, long time. "Okay," he said, and he said it with conviction.

--

The plan was to meet Five immediately after shop class to have a firm discussion with Two, but when Nine stood there stupidly ten, fifteen minutes into C lunch, he began to realize that Five simply wasn't going to show.

When Two left the shop for lunch himself, he was surprised to see Nine staring angrily at him. He turned on a shy smile, and Nine wasn't sure if he was imagining the nervousness in his expression or not.

"Hi there, sweetie pie. I'm sorry, did you need something? You could have come in, you know, instead of waiting out here. It's starting to get chilly. Here, a student brought me these – have a smashing autumn, hmm?" And then he produced a banana nut muffin from his ass – no seriously, he just pulled it out of fucking _nowhere_ – and placed it in the hands of a very stunned Nine.

"No, there was nothing," Nine mumbled, embarrassed now. He looked down at the ass-muffin with hatred.

"Are you sure?" Two frowned, and seemed to wise up a little. "What are you up to?"

"I was waiting for Five, actually," Nine said, which was the truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Wasn't he in class today?"

Two bit his lip thoughtfully, and Nine understood where Five got the whole 'sexy older man' thing from, after all – his eyes caught in the light, and _damn_, he _was_ kind of fine, even to Nine, who did not like penises or old people in a sexual manner at all. When Two spoke, Nine had to school his expression into one of casual curiosity. "No, I'm afraid he wasn't here much today, honey. He was called to the office at the beginning of the period."

"What for?"

"That, I don't know." He paused, tugging at his bow tie, and he gave Nine a searching look, probably trying to figure out if Nine knew anything. Nine raised his eyebrows innocently, and when Two spoke again, he spoke slowly, his brows crinkling. "I'm sorry I'm not more helpful, kiddo."

"No, that's all right," Nine said with a polite smile, tacking a silent _motherfucker_ at the end.

Two seemed to sense the unspoken sentiment, because he suddenly acted uneasy. "Well, all right. I'll talk to you later then, don't be a stranger. I do hope everything's well. I hope so."

He limped off, not really using his cane although he should have, with the weather getting cooler like this. His knee must have been killing him.

_I hope it is_, Nine thought poisonously, and went to lunch without Five after all.

He was halfway through his cheeseburger when he got an emergency text from Five.

_Six had a meltdown._

Christ. Shit.

Well, that at least explained Five's absence, Nine supposed as he texted back a half-assed answer.

This wasn't an unusual circumstance, exactly. Six had had a few breakdowns at school, when he skipped medication, when he was sick, when his agoraphobia became too overwhelming. The instances were rare – maybe once or twice a year, but they were terrible when they did crop up, and usually involved some bloodshed. He became paranoid, anxious, and hysterical, and would sometimes lash out or result to self-injury to release the negative tension, if drawing wasn't an option, which it rarely was in an environment where classes were only an hour long and teachers were too stupid not to bother you when you were muttering to yourself in the corner and bleeding from your mouth.

Collecting his lunch, Nine stood and trudged to the nurse's office, the second stop before Six would be shipped home for three days' suspension. Six was there, as expected, sitting sulkily on the floor with a bloody nose, trembling and snuffling, his skin ashen. He wasn't tilting his head back like Nine had taught him to, and was bleeding all over his black-and-white striped turtleneck. It would probably stain. Five was kneeling beside him, valiantly trying to get him to cooperate, but Six was lost, staring into a vast, unseen space, his mouth slack, his eyes glassed and unfocused. He made a constant keening sound, soft, in the back of his throat, like a threatened cat. He bled a little from his nose into his mouth, and the redness from his split lip mingled with it, dripping. Nine felt a little sick at the sight.

Five spotted him standing at the threshold and made a sound like a cry. "_There _you are!"

"What happened this time?" Nine asked, leaning against the doorframe. Six showed no response to his presence whatsoever. Maybe they had given him his sedatives, though he looked too nervous for that.

Five launched into the story in a frenzied way, as if a dam had been broken and the panic was coming in a flood now. "He bit a kid! He was drawing and the kid tried to touch it, I guess, I don't know, it didn't make any sense, it was _chaos_, and the kid's at the hospital, now, I think, I don't know… He bit this hand – made him bleed, broke the skin, I guess. He might get stitches, I heard – it was awful, God… But anyway, he punched Six in the face before it was all over, poor Six, and of course Six just… I don't even… It was awful, and… So much blood, everywhere, I didn't see it, but look at him, I mean… Who would punch Six in the face? I don't…"

"All right," Nine said gently, and this seemed to be enough. Five sighed into silence, as if relieved of a burden.

Suddenly, the twins surged around Nine and engulfed Six in a powerful hug. Nine hadn't heard them approaching, was briefly startled, and then pleased. Their presence seemed to finally draw Six from his stupor, because he stirred and gasped, and then hugged them tightly to him, digging his nails into their clothes as if afraid of gravity losing its grip on him, as if he was afraid of floating off into space if not anchored down by their familiar, warm bodies.

"Hurts," he croaked, and Three wiped his face lovingly with a tissue. Six watched him with big, earnest eyes, his mouth still slightly open, and gripped his sleeve tighter, making a whispery sighing noise as if winded, or awed.

Three glanced up at him, and smiled a little, and he got a kind of shy look that Nine had never seen on him before; simultaneously, a look of comprehension dawned on Four's face, and he looked around as if incredulous, drawing away from the pair. Something seemed to click between Six and Three, almost audibly, the air thick with it. Their eyes were locked, and they seemed concurrently surprised.

Six spoke, in his quiet, watery, tired voice, just one whispered word, "Lemons."

Three grinned, and silently laughed, and hugged him close. Six pressed his face into Three's shoulder, gripping at him, and there, muffled, it came again, louder, "Lemons!"

Nine nearly laughed, but held it in for the sake of the moment.

"Sorry," Six said, pulling back, his eyes wider than ever before, and the opaque look in his eyes was gone, and suddenly he seemed so much more lucid and alert than Nine had seen him in a long time.

Three shook his head, stroking gently along Six's hairline, down to his jaw, and he ran a thumb along Six's dark, pouting lips, smudging a bit of blood and seeming not to mind at all, and then he guided Six's face to him, and they were kissing, kneeling there on the floor of the nurse's office. Four stomped his foot and whirled around as if mortified.

Six made a quiet, whimpering noise, tried to clumsily speak into Three's mouth, and Three crushed into the kiss harder until Six stopped, followed the natural, instinctive rhythm, his hands shaking as they blindly cupped the shape of Three's jaw, and Nine had to look away, embarrassed by the tender sight.

Five watched them with his wide, curious eye, and something undefined flickered across his face. He glanced at Nine, and thinned out his lips as if determined, and looked back at the pair on the floor again.

It worked, Nine thought, turning back to them, too. They were both short, in any case, and Three's pale blondness complimented Six's chocolate ink-stained-ness quite well. Three smothered Six in affection, peppering him with kisses, while Six smiled dazedly, letting out bubbling sighs that were almost laughs, saying over and over again, "Lemons" in a purring voice they had never heard from him before.

Four sulked against the corner, scuffing his shoe on the linoleum.

Nine wanted to text Seven about it, but forgot to do it.

-- **to be continued**

I really like this chapter. Overall, it's just a fun, happy chapter, and we need one after what happened to poor Five. I hope you like it, because I enjoyed it a lot.

I got some really AMAZING, FANTASTIC reviews this last round - above and beyond the already wonderful reviews I've been getting (so naturally I was stunned), and I really want to thank you guys. You are the sweetest readers ever, and I appreciate it. You guys are the best! :D I'm spoiled. Do keep it up! Haha.


	15. Lemons

**Testament**

Seven had been silent and AWOL for a week and a half, now. Her dad seemed unconcerned, however, because he didn't contact Nine at all, and when the PE teacher asked after her, nobody seemed particularly worried. Nine wondered about her.

He was surprised when one of his texts was finally answered in the middle of an otherwise uneventful lunch.

_Stop bothering me, for fuck's sake, you clingy pansy._

He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or playful or genuinely angry. He showed it to Five, who was stoned out of his mind and who only smiled and said in a smug way, "I told you she wasn't dead."

"Helpful," Nine snapped, and regretted doing it immediately after. He texted her back, asking why she had been gone. She responded instantly, so she was right by her phone, wherever she was.

_None of your business. Do I have to run everything by you? _

Okay, so she _was_ a little mad about something.

_Where are you_? he asked.

_Nowhere. Wherever I want. While I can. Why do you even care?_

Nine would have dropped the subject any other time, but he hadn't heard from her in almost two weeks, and he was curious. He would poke the sleeping dragon until he was burned to a crisp.

_Why are you mad_?

She didn't respond for a long time, and for a minute Nine thought she wasn't going to. Then she said, _Fucking dipshit. You're a good kid, but you're dumb. Stop asking stupid questions._

He couldn't get anything else out of her. The twins and Five were of no help – Five was stoned out of his mind, and Three was busy kissing Six's ear and making him smile, and Four was pouting, tearing up clumps of grass and ripping the blades in half. Four had been irritable ever since that day in the nurse's office, though, contrariwise, Three was much more chipper and playful. He was all over Six, who was unused to the affection and in a constant state of unbalance… although, and here was the strange thing, he was doing much better. He didn't break down as much, it seemed, and he was more alert and brighter all around. He spoke more, and even initiated affection between Three and himself, sneaking in hugs or kisses when Three was least expecting them.

Nine wondered if Three was already pressuring Six for sex. It seemed like something he would do. He wondered, too, if Three and Four were apart often enough for either of them to _do_ such a thing. The answer, to him, seemed to be a resounding "no." And then came the other question, the final question: _would_ Six have sex? He was so paranoid and neurotic that it didn't seem likely, though Six had a way of surprising people. Maybe he was a total sex fiend. Who knows?

Why was he wondering about the sexual dynamic of his best friends anyway? All of this Two and Five nonsense was getting to him.

Six waved to attract Nine's attention. He didn't actually have C lunch, but he had skipped out on his economics class to be with Three, at Three's request. He probably forgot that he ever had economics, really. He was absent-minded and prone to manipulation. "I finger-painted today," he stated softly.

"What did you paint?" Nine asked indulgently. He had a headache.

"Birth." He paused, struggling to phrase his meaning. "_Beginnings_."

"I see." Five slumped over into Nine's lap and stared blankly into space, perfectly placid, humming under his breath. Nine stroked his hair out of habit.

Three bit Six's ear, and Six hitched in a surprised breath and let out a tiny laugh, a victory in itself. Nine hoped they wouldn't become one of those annoying couples who hung on each other all of the time. Nine and Seven, themselves, were rarely affectionate in public. Hand-holding was the extent of it, if that. She seemed just so independent, so whole, without him there with her, and he likewise. Hell, Nine realized, they weren't even affectionate in private, either. She didn't like him to be all over her, as was his tendency to do with Five, or to kiss her beyond the occasional peck or lead-in to sex, or to play with her hair, like he wanted to. When he got too affectionate or exuberant, she would punch him playfully, or scold him, or even simply raise her eyebrow in warning. Sometimes she made him angry, and he was sometimes glad that she was gone, was surprised by how little things changed with her absence.

The wind encouraged the clouds to chase each other across the sky, and lunch ended on a flat, quiet note.

--

Nine woke with a start in the night, jumping a half a foot in the air as Five slithered up his body and nestled his face in the natural slope of his shoulder.

"Holy _shit_, man!" Nine gasped, clasping a hand to his chest. Feeling someone _slide_ up you like that was something else. When his heart stopped racing, he frowned down into Five's sincere, sleepy face. "What the fuck are you doing? That scared me."

Five reached out and brushed some of Nine's hair back, gently slipped his fingertips along Nine's temple. The injuries were healing, Nine thought, as he took in Five's moon-washed expression. The cuts had scabbed over a while ago and were mostly knitted back together, and his bruises had turned a queasy, faded green. His single hazel eye was wide and beseeching, his mouth slightly slack, his cheeks flushed, and if Nine didn't know better, he looked like he was going to…

"_Nine_," Five whispered. His hot, stale breath puffed across Nine's face.

"What time is it, man? Go to sleep."

"I think I'm going to quit."

"Quit what?" It was too early for this shit. Nine groaned and rubbed tiredly at his eyes, and Five made a quiet laughing sound, poking his stomach affectionately.

"Weed."

Nine woke up enough to stare at him incredulously, though his head still pounded. "Seriously?"

Biting his lip almost shyly, Five nodded. "Yeah, I think so… I think so."

"You just decided this, now?"

Another slow nod.

"Are you still high?"

Five laughed, and Nine smiled, holding him close, feeling the incredible heat of his body, the weight of him, the rise and fall of his steady breathing. He was so full and heavy where Seven was sparse and light, warm where she was cold. It was a polarity that hung him in a dead space, without warmth, without air, without peace.

"I'm quitting," Five repeated into Nine's neck, which tickled. "Quitting. No more, not ever."

Here the conversation dissolved in their exhaustion, and they spoke nonsensically over each other, snuggling closer, their eyes sliding shut.

"I'm proud, I don't know what else to say, you're…"

"I know, I just need to, I need…"

"You do a good job, you know, so proud…"

"For you, too, especially for you…"

They fell asleep, hot and tangled, and they woke late for school the next day and simply didn't go. Nine fixed them pancakes and Five laughed and was in high spirits, being silly with the syrup and giving his banana a blowjob, which made Nine laugh harder than it should have, considering he must have had practice to get it in so far.

"I always knew you had a big mouth," Nine teased around a mouthful of pancakes, and Five's eyes were dark, his face full of laughter, as he pleasured his banana with enthusiasm.

"Mrrph," he said, and finally started to eat the thing proper. As he chewed, he muttered, "_My_ mouth? Not as big as yours. God, you never shut up."

Nine cracked up until his sides hurt. They amused each other until their breakfasts got cold and they stopped being hungry anyway.

They bummed around in their pajamas, barefoot, stinking, shoving each other and playing video games and texting their friends in the middle of English class to get them in trouble.

"Today's a good day," Nine said, sprawled on the floor as they watched _Stepbrothers_.

"Hmm? Mmm hmm. Yeah." Five was in a half-stupor, his head resting on Nine's belly, staring up at the ceiling. "I missed this."

"What do you mean?"

Silence. Nine's phone went off. He went for it and was surprised to find it was Six.

_Semen does not taste like lemons_.

Oh, God.

Three, you _whore_.

--

"He didn't force you into anything, right?" Nine asked, mostly out of obligation, when he next saw Six. Luckily, the twins and Five were out to get them ice cream and McDonalds, so he had some time alone with the schizophrenic artist.

Six smiled at him dreamily, clearly somewhere else. He had been more and more lucid lately, and happy, and social. When he looked at Nine, he seemed to actually _see _him, and approve. "No."

"Promise?"

"Promise. I liked it. Wanted it. Promise. Promise."

"Because if he did force you, I'll bust his balls with a hammer."

Six smiled, licking his lips as if remembering the incident, tugging on his enormous striped sweater. "He didn't make sound when he came."

"Did not need to know that. Ever. In a million years."

On the bright side, this was definitive proof that the twins must not be mute by choice… because Nine didn't know anyone who could do that out of sheer will.

"I love him," Six told Nine, his eyes suddenly quite wide, as if he didn't want to say these words but they were coming out anyway, which happened to him sometimes because of his medication and his already crossed wires.

"Oh, shut up," Nine muttered. "Everyone and their love. You're seventeen."

Six only smiled patiently, and toyed with the little key he kept around his neck. It unlocked a box in his room full of old photographs of his grandmother, whom he had adored very much before she passed away when he was twelve years old. She had taken him all over the world and had been there when his episodes had been at their worst. Her loss was what started the steady spiral that Three seemed to finally be pulling him out of.

"Love him. Love him."

"Gonna marry him, huh? Run off to Ireland together?" Nine teased, and nudged him, and Six's grin got wider and he made a soft snickering noise. From the way he kept his eyes fixed on the floor, Nine inferred that he was probably feeling bashful, which was sweet in its own right.

After a few more minutes, Five and the twins returned with their treats. Three had gotten Six lemonade, which made Six beam with joy; it wasn't like the twins to be especially thoughtful of others, though they did notice details impeccably, so it was a pleasant surprise to see Three caring so much for his boyfriend.

Four was less than impressed, and pulled faces and made jerking off motions when his twin wasn't looking, which made Nine laugh mindlessly. Five kept stealing his French fries, and he probably thought that Nine didn't notice, even though Nine had always been fiercely protective of his French fries and only ever allowed Five to take them.

Four signed something at Nine, and he didn't understand it. Five burst out laughing, though, so it was probably something rude.

Three and Six shared the lemonade. "Lemons," Six murmured, and Three lit up.

-- **to be continued**

Another kind of happy chapter... it's a nice break before the next plot point. I'm kind of pleased with it, if only because I'm a shameless 6x3 fangirl, haha.

I've heard enough of it to boost the rating to M now, guys. Sorry about that... though if you've read this far and haven't balked at the content, you probably won't be bothered. :3


	16. Fire

**Testament**

Nine woke up from the impromptu sleepover to find everyone sprawled across his couches, tangled in each other, sleeping deeply. Six was thoroughly wrapped in the twins, and was smiling even in his sleep, which was a refreshing sight. Even in slumber, his face was close to Three's, and it felt kind of dirty to look at, to know that their breath was mingling, to know that if they moved in just slightly in their sleep, they would kiss. They matched each other so well, nearly the same size, opposing shades, both childlike in looks. Three's hood had slid off of his head and his hair was a static-y shock of blondness, a few locks mingling with Six's own curly black mop. As Nine watched, Three's nose brushed Six's, and Six smiled faintly, mumbling something, his hand seeking Three's body, finding it, and simply resting there.

"Huh," said Nine thoughtfully, looking down at Five, who was sprawled across his lap, drooling on the couch, a total dead weight. Nine smiled.

Slowly, as Nine flipped channels and settled on _Ghost Hunters_, the others began to wake up and protest loudly that they were hungry. This was to be expected – they _were_ teenagers, and all, and it was Saturday.

"You guys ate all of my shit," Nine complained when Five started whining in earnest. "I've got some old pizza left, that's it."

And so, by popular vote, Nine and the twins were sent off to retrieve breakfast. The drive was awkwardly silent, because the twins couldn't speak and Nine couldn't take his eyes off of the road to see what they were signing at him. Usually they had Five in the car to translate, but he was showering because the twins had drawn penises all over his body in Sharpie marker while he was sleeping, so it was their own damn fault they couldn't communicate with him.

"So," Nine said, grinning because he felt sarcastic this morning, "how did you sleep?"

Three scowled at him. Four flipped him the bird.

"Really? That's nice. So, Three… I heard you victimized one of my best friends the other day."

Three started signing at him furiously, and Four scribbled angry sticky-notes. Nine laughed as he drove. They would kick his ass the minute he pulled into the parking lot, but it was okay.

"He texted me about it. Did you know? I got to talk to him. How did you get him alone? You and Four are glued at the hip. To be honest, I would have thought _you_ would have topped..."

Four lobbed a sticky note at him. Nine laughed. Three beat a fist against the arm rest in frustration and scowled, sulking, his arms folded over his chest. The rest of the drive was silent.

He had just received his obligatory beating just outside of the grocery store when his cell phone burst into a round of Fergalicious. He checked it, holding Four by the back of his hood when he tried to book it for the magazine section, wondering if it was Seven. When he answered, though, he was surprised to hear Five's voice on the other side.

"_Oh God! _Nine! Nine, is that you? God, Jesus fuck, please be!"

"Five? Calm down, talk to me. What happened?" Nine turned away from the questioning eyes of the twins, cupping the phone with both hands for some semblance of privacy. "Five?"

"Oh God, oh God, it's Six! Everything, I couldn't stop him! Oh _God_, I'm so sorry, Nine! I swear to God!"

"What happened?" Nine felt the first cold tendrils of panic coil in his gut.

"Everything's on fire. I didn't realize, until… G-God, I called 911, they're on their way, but… There's no helping it, Nine, it's…"

Nine's hands were numb. His mouth filled with bile and he felt sick. "Fire?"

"It's beautiful. I-It's… I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, so sorry."

"We're on our way…" Nine hung up, feeling dazed, and looked down at the twins. "Six set the house on fire."

Four's mouth dropped open, but Three looked horrified, his face crumpling and his eyes welling with tears. He put his hands over his mouth, and Four moved to hold him.

When they pulled up across the street from Nine's house, it was a flurry of chaos. The house, which was old and cheap and poorly insulated, was thoroughly up in flames, belching smoke through its windows, glowing and expanding from the inside like an enormous jack-o-lantern. The orange of the fire cut against the pale blue of the morning sky, heat slicing through the cold of the autumn air. Five and Six stood huddled on the opposite side of the street, holding each other, Six trembling and sobbing in Five's arms. They seemed pallid and surreal, washed out in the brilliance of the flame.

Six saw Nine and the twins approaching and screamed.

"_Don't let them take me away_!" he shrieked, throwing himself into Three's arms, and the twins clustered around him like a shield.

It was strange, really. This episode had been so unanticipated, without warning, without even the beginning of a hint. Six had been more coherent and peaceful than ever… and yet, one morning, he had lit a house aflame. Nine stood there, on the edge of a sharp new reality, seeing the transition as the wood of his home blackened and the paint curled and the plastic melted, and there was a sound, like a dull roar, broken up by a snapping, crackling noise, as if this was a giant bonfire. His memories were eaten up and scattered into ashes – his skateboard, his clothing, his photo albums, his mother's jewelry. The flames danced behind the eyes of the creaking windows and destroyed everything inside, one at a time, taking them and ruining them…

"It's arson," Nine said, stupidly, staring as the fire swallowed his house whole. "We can't tell. We can't."

"Nine," Five croaked. His eye was bloodshot and tortured. "I didn't know. I didn't."

"It's okay…" And then the tears came, in a huge hot stinging rush, and Nine hunched weeping where he stood, the sobs racking his body, something deep and long-building bursting from him at last in a huge wave, all of the worries, stresses, and fears – the pressure letting go in an enormous, powerful burst that made his knees week. The world itself felt too small to hold all of it, the emotion. "_Five_! _Why_?"

Five grabbed him roughly, pulled him towards his warm, comforting body and crushed him as if he could absorb him into his core. "Don't, don't, it's all right, it will be all right," he said over and over into Nine's hair, stroking him, pouring all of himself into it, and Nine had never been more glad to have him as a friend, never, never.

Nine's strength faded, and he leaned against Five hard, and they sunk down onto the pavement, rocking together as Nine cried and cried until he was dry, his limbs like lead, his face puffy and red, his throat raw. And still he hitched in pathetic, tear-less breaths, little sobs, little gasps, crying for everything that had been done. He hadn't cried like that in a long, long time.

And Five was there, holding him, whispering into his hair, his heart beating against Nine's cheek, and Five alone was there.

"Need you," Nine rasped against Five's damp T-shirt. "Don't leave me alone."

"Never. _Never_."

"Can't take it anymore, can't…"

"Shh, you don't have to talk… I'm sorry, so sorry…"

"I'm sorry, Five, so sorry, for everything…"

"Never, no… I won't leave you, not ever."

The fire swept up everything in its great red fist and crushed it like a beetle in the hand of God.

--

"Where's your mom?"

"Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter." Nine leaned against the wall tiredly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He hadn't been sleeping well ever since the fire, kept having nightmares about it and waking up in the darkness of his hotel room panting, crying out, with Five's slender body wrapped around him, Five's voice, shushing him back to sleep, assuring him that he was still alive, that everything would be okay. Nine wasn't sure what he would do without his best friend there, anchoring him; and Five seemed equally overwhelmed, and it was if they were holding each other's heads above water in an otherwise enormous, churning river. They both had nightmares, and it was an unspoken agreement that they share the bed, instead of using the rollaway that had been brought up for them.

"They'll get you in a house soon, I'm sure of it," Five said lamely. His hair was wet from a recent shower.

"I don't mind. I could stay here. They make your bed for you and everything." Nine smiled weakly, and the humor fell flat. Five's eye was probing, gentle, and soft with emotion.

He was painfully sober, but something about him seemed punch drunk and dangerous – Nine could see it, could see it deep and sharp in that intense hazel eye. All of that, that heat, was fixed on him, swallowing him, burning into him like the fire. Five grasped his shoulder as their entire center of gravity seemed to shift, and it stung, ached. It was a familiar feeling in the pit of Nine's stomach. He inexplicably thought of lying naked in Seven's bedroom, and felt exposed.

"I'm sorry," Five muttered, leaning against him, heavy warmth, and Nine was suddenly so aware of their fit, the shape and contour of Five's body against his own. "I'm sorry about everything."

"No," Nine's mouth said. "No, it's not your fault."

"It is! It _is_… I'm so sorry. I'm a freak, I…"

His hair smelled like grass. Not like the Mary Jane grass, but the sweeter, fresher smell of lawn grass. Nine sighed into it, waking up, pulling away from Five's pawing grasp and holding his soft, round face in his hands. His skin was warm and alive. Gently, he pushed the eye patch away, brushing his fingers over the roughened skin of Five's scar, and smiled.

"You're not. You're my best friend. You're perfect."

A sob wrenched itself from the pit of Five's stomach, and the tears began to flow, coolly staining his cheek, wetting Nine's hand. The tender gesture seemed to split him open, leaving his nerves raw and open and vulnerable to the air. He shook all over and began to draw in the hitched, hiccupping breaths Nine knew so well.

"What would I do without you, Nine?"

"Without me? Without _you_… J-Just, I don't know… Don't talk about it, just…"

And then Five was invading his senses, filling him, hurtling closer, and he was stealing Nine's breath away, sucking his soul from the depths of him – and they were kissing against the hotel room wall, the ugly green-striped wallpaper.

An electric web spread from the base of Nine's spine, shooting upwards, sending finger-like shocks across his shoulder blades. He flashed hot, and then cold, freezing, his fingers numb as they tangled in Five's damp, wavy hair. Tiny, desperate sounds issued from deep within Nine's chest, unbidden, and Five answered with his own moans and whimpers, quiet, growling, animal noises that were primitive and full of meaning and that made Nine's lower body clench and burn. It was confusing, and wonderful, and terrifying, and very wrong, and so right. The floor opened up beneath them and they were falling, and all Nine knew was the feel of those warm, expressive lips against his own, so much the same and yet nothing like Seven's. Five's mouth was bigger, more pliant and almost painfully soft and moist; he didn't use his teeth like Seven, only soft mouth and tongue, the steady motion of his head leading, Nine lost in it, helpless. His hands, unzipping Nine's hoodie and delving inside, were gentle, cautious, blunt – hot, like all of Five, full of heat. Big, masculine, cupping the barely-there curve of Nine's male waist, as they carefully, experimentally rutted against each other, needing the closeness, each other.

Nine arched off of the wall, and for a moment the full front of their bodies met, and Five made an appreciative sound; Nine guided him around, never parting, pinned him hard against the wall, and kissed him in earnest, tried to swallow him whole, delving deep. Faintly, only once, he realized he should stop, but he couldn't put on the brakes now – it had begun, and it was good, and right, and real. Five hooked a leg around Nine's, dragging him closer, and Nine drowned in it, deeply, thoroughly, and he loved the suffocation. This, the one person who was nearly the second half of him, who understood him, supported him, knew what he would say before he said it, who would hold him after a bloody fight and soothe the pain away… Somehow, this didn't feel like a new experience, this soulful kiss, but merely a confirmation of what already was.

One might believe there needed to be a proper segue between a first kiss between best friends, and two rounds of oral sex – but this was not the case.

Five didn't care that Nine was overenthusiastic – no, he encouraged it, gently, with patience and energy. Nine explored, plunged into what he knew best, Five's body, as familiar as his own, and yet so different an environment, flat where Seven was round, hard where she was soft, hot all over, beautifully responsive, rippling, in motion. Five gave and gave, true to his most basic nature, providing as much as he could, and Nine greedily took all of it, filling the gaps with his own exuberance and passion. And Five kept laughing throughout it all as if amazed, something Seven never would have done – kept smiling and making sounds and, most of all, looking Nine in the face, showering him with sweet, tender kisses that left him achingly needy, and filled with feeling.

Nine heard it, at the pinnacle of pleasure, the whispered meaning on the edge of the wordless shout – _I love you, I love you, I love you_…

-- **to be continued**

I have been anticipating this chapter for the longest time. Seriously - ever since I wrote out the outline for this fic, I have been building up for this chapter. It's not even the best chapter, or my favorite chapter... but in a way, it's probably the most important chapter. Really represents the turnaround. So please, please, do let me know how you feel about this one.

Even though this chapter has a relatively happy ending... it may or may not be a reflection of things to come.


	17. Alone

**Testament**

It took three minutes for Nine to realize that something was wrong with his bed. First of all, Five was in it, which, in itself, was not abnormal in the least. The strange part was this: Nine was nude from the waist down. The other strange part was that Five was also nude – from head to toe, eye patch and all. They were nude, at the same time, in the same bed, touching, snuggled, warm, exposed.

It came back, not in pieces, but all at once, and Nine was too horrified to speak. His mouth tasted stale, kind of salty, gummed up, and his jaw was just slightly sore, his throat a little bit raw, and – oh, God, he had… and they had…

Five slept on oblivious, sprawled out across the sheets, shamelessly naked, peacefully dreaming. His skin was dusted with freckles, everywhere. Nine remembered the taste of it, the sounds Five had made – surprising, breathtaking, quiet despite the litany of things being said. Nine remembered, in the dark, whispering, "_So beautiful_" and Five crying, but not out of sadness, not this time, never again, if Nine had any say. Nine remembered the intensity of Five's eye, how he made contact while they… and nothing had been more intense than that, the way Five was focused on _him_, as if worshipping him… All things Seven never did, the looking, the sounds, the willing submission and selflessness. The connection, the communication, the oneness was different with her, paler, absent… Oh, _God_, Seven…

As Nine watched, Five stirred, woke slowly, and got a sweet, lazy smile on his face, his eye half-lidded. His lips were slightly puffy, pink. The light from the window softened his features, lit him up, made him something almost ethereal, handsome, his subtle muscles defined, his flaws smudged out. His drool was drying on Nine's shoulder.

"Hi," Five said in a soft, content voice that made Nine's throat tighten up. He stretched out languidly on the rumpled blankets and yawned. "Good morning."

Nine, stunned, said nothing. Five looked up at him and grinned, biting his lip playfully, and reached out a hand to stroke Nine's cheek; Nine ducked his head, ashamed, feeling his face heat up, and Five sighed beneath him. "Look at you… Amazing… so…"

"I don't know what h-happened, I…" Nine felt wrong, all over, like a betrayer. He felt torn in three different pieces. It was surreal, seeing his best friend like this, this person who he trusted and understood more than anyone in the universe… naked, and spread out before him, smiling in a sexual afterglow. Why hadn't it been Seven? Why hadn't she been there for him? It made sense, in a way, for him to turn to the one thing he knew for comfort, that one person – but why… why…

Now, to his utter surprise, Five arched up in one smooth motion, and kissed him on the mouth, and even though he was afraid, disgusted, Nine felt a spike of heat run up his back, stab through his groin.

"I guess we don't have to talk," Five said, looking hard into his eyes. He could sense Nine's uncertainty, had always been able to read him like an open book. "Are you all right? We don't have to talk." Another kiss, wet, sweet, and Nine remembered where that mouth had been and was filled with fresh, escalating panic. "I feel so good inside, all over. The best. You… oh, Nine…"

Nine's mouth spoke without him. "I'm not gay."

Five pulled away and looked at him with a faint, bemused smile on his face. Nine caught sight of the bite mark on Five's pale shoulder. "That's it?" he asked patiently, with a hint of playfulness in his eye. "That's all you're going to say?"

"I'm not."

The smile faded, just slightly, and Five searched Nine's face for something and didn't seem to find it. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not… I don't… with _boys_, I mean… I like girls, I'm not gay."

"But you… and we…" Five made an obscure gesture. "How is that not…? But you said…"

"I don't love you!" Nine exploded, and felt deeply afraid.

The hurt in Five's eye came in sharp, and clear, and Nine would never be able to forget that look then, that moment, with the pale yellow light of the sun coming gauzy and blurred through the cheap hotel window, Five's naked shoulders, naked body, naked soul, how vulnerable and very small he looked, the tiny hitched breath he took as if he had been physically stricken.

"_Nine_…"

With the taste of Five still on his tongue, Nine launched into his hysterical tirade. "Oh, God, Five, what have we _done_? I'm with Seven, this is wrong, this is sick, I'm not gay, I can't be, you're my best friend, you're not supposed to – not with your best friend! Why did you have to – oh _God_, I'm so sorry, I'm so… Aaaugh! I _can't_!"

"Nine, Nine, just…" Five's voice caught and wavered, and he looked lost, crushed, and Nine felt even more baffled, now, a horrible person.

"Please, I can't, I can't…"

Five's voice came out in a low, rasping whisper, "I love you, I love you… I thought you loved me."

"I…" The words stuck in Nine's throat, and for a minute he was sure he would vomit there, right then, onto the floor. He knew, in a way, that he was spiraling out of control – that he was only reacting to the cascade of feelings, the buildup of emotion that had sent him crashing so hard in the first place. He was loose, angry, impulsive, scared as all hell. He was losing everything. Everything important.

They dressed in silence, not looking at each other, soundless except for the occasional noise that would escape from Five's mouth, involuntary, a kind of choked sob. He finished before Nine and sat on the edge of the bed, hunched in on himself and staring at the floor.

"Sorry," Nine said weakly, feeling the need to run, to _go_, until the memory was washed from his mind.

"Don't talk to me," Five murmured, and Nine saw the tears flowing, and he fled.

--

Three hours later, the text came in from Four.

_What the fuck did you do, you asshole?_

Simultaneously, a text came in from Three:

_Yo, assfuck, what did you do to Five THIS time?_

They probably hadn't consulted over that one. Barely registering beneath the overtones of depression, panic, and self-loathing, Nine found this somewhat funny. He texted back Three, since he was the more rational of the two.

_Ask him about it. He started it._

It wasn't a very nice attitude to have, really – it wasn't Five's fault at all. In fact, Five was probably the most unassuming, pure-minded person Nine knew. He wouldn't have kissed Nine if Nine hadn't held out the invitation… but Nine didn't know what he wanted anymore, not with anything. He wanted everything and couldn't have it and was grappling with the consequences of his actions, again. Five used to joke that one day he'd find a way to get them all killed, or blow up the earth, or something.

Probably, Five had quit smoking for Nine. Probably, he had decided to stop seeing Two for Nine's benefit, also. He did a lot of things because Nine wanted him to – and not all of them positive. Like going down on him yesterday. That was probably a bad plan from the start. It occurred to Nine that sex just tended to ruin everything.

Now Nine felt like a real ass, even before he got the ranting text back from Three, calling him an assortment of colorful names and listing out everything wrong with him AND his mother AND his (apparently undersized yet overactive) penis.

Deciding not to answer – he would only get insulted again, and anyway he already felt thoroughly guilty and disgusting – Nine trudged by Seven's house, considered knocking and didn't. He walked all around town, even past Two's house, and he walked up the driveway and had to force himself _not_ to knock, _not_ to punch him across the nose and go to jail for assaulting the elderly.

_You lucked out today, _sweetheart.

Nine took out his anger on the Friendly Neighborhood Child Molester (Jewish Version, coming soon to a store near you) by kicking over a particularly cheery-looking lawn gnome as he passed it. The tip of its hat broke off and he felt bloodthirstily triumphant.

"Take that, bitch," he muttered, and kept walking.

--

It was around 4:00 in the afternoon when he got a single text from Five. Nine was sitting on a swing set in a local park. The message said only this:

_Why_?

--

Five tried pot for the first time at Thanksgiving, Junior year.

Nine's mother was on a business trip in Milwaukee, and he hadn't seen his father since he was three years old. Five's parents were reunited briefly over that month and had taken an unannounced vacation in California – he had only found out over telephone, having returned home from school one day to find his father's things once again moved into the house and a note on the fridge informing him that they were out of milk. When he had called his mother, she had been in the middle of lunch and couldn't be bothered.

He had shown up on Nine's doorstep, valiantly battling back tears, and Nine hadn't minded at all. He had been lonely, too, eating lunchmeat turkey and French fries in a vague attempt at a proper Thanksgiving dinner.

They lay together on the floor, watching _The Twilight Zone_ and munching popcorn, when Five hit the emotional wall and burst into tears. This time, hugging him didn't seem to do it, so Nine decided to try something new.

He had tried weed once at a party, and had some of his own – barely enough for two joints, but it would do. Nine never became the pot-smoker Five would; Five smoked both joints, there on the living room floor, desperate for the comfort of some sort of release. He had been unwilling at first, commenting on the fact it was illegal and dangerous and so on… but Nine had insisted, and Five, submissive, trusting, had obediently done as he was told.

After he got high, he devoured all of Nine's lunchmeat turkey and an entire bag of popcorn, and was starting on the potato chips and Oreos when he had fallen and struck his forehead on the corner of the kitchen counter. He didn't bleed, but it was a solid bump.

When Nine picked him up off of the floor, Five had tried to kiss him then, too.

It had been a quick, unexpected thing; he had leaned first into Nine's arms, and then he had grabbed his face and moved in, and Nine, seeing it coming, had pulled sharply back. Five, stunned, hadn't tried again, and had seemed a little embarrassed.

Neither of them had thought anything of it at the time. Five had been stoned, was only just beginning to fully accept his sexuality, and the kiss hadn't actually landed, so what was the problem?

Maybe the tension had been growing. Nine didn't know. It didn't really matter. All he knew, now, was they had exploded into a ball of sexual energy and it had left them both bloody in the end.

Nine realized coldly that probably this made him at least bisexual. And this was an unhappy thought.

--

Nine went home at midnight. His mother was there and awake, drinking coffee in the lobby of the hotel, and when he trudged through the doors, her eyes glassed with pain and disappointment.

He hated her. He hated everybody.

He didn't speak, brushing by her, and she didn't call after him. They had become strangers, existing under the same roof, nothing more.

When he entered his hotel room, he half expected to see Five there, snuggled in the bed they shared, asleep or even awake, stoned or lucid, smiling or crying, anything, _anything_, but he was gone. He was staying with Six, Nine had gathered from the twins, which would do neither of them any good.

Nine bravely attempted to waffle around for the next hour or so, flipping channels on the television and texting Seven (_where are you? Why are you angry? I'm sorry_), before the question became too great. He let himself text Six.

_Don't tell him I asked, but how is Five doing_?

Six texted back almost immediately. He must have been near his phone and having one of his bouts of insomnia.

_Smells like weed. Nasty._

Somehow, Nine figured that he would. He couldn't bring himself to feel disappointed.

He turned off the lights and tried to fall asleep, but each time, he had hot, liquid dreams, intermingling; Five, wide-eyed, gasping, pleading, his big warm hand lost in Nine's hair; Seven, pinning him down hard and arching over him, her face determined; Five whispering in the dark, _love you so much_, gentle fingertips; Seven kissing him firmly, with focus, shucking his pants with practiced ease; Two, parting Five's legs, Five's face red with shyness; the quiet hotel room, just the two of them, Five laughing indulgently as Nine clumsily choked and smiled, feeling so, so at peace, so _much_; the dreams continued, burning, each on the tail of the other, until Nine woke sobbing and couldn't stand it anymore.

He lay awake for the rest of the night, staring into the blackness, and for once, feeling very alone.

**-- to be continued**

I don't really have a lot to say about this chapter. It's fairly straightforward. I'm very uncomfortable writing sexual things, so if it sounds stilted, I apologize. :3

Poor Five. I do love him. Really. I actually wanted to work in him saying, "Well, fuck you!" but there wasn't really any place appropriate for it, haha.


	18. Change

**Testament**

The problem with having a fallout with your best friend is that, if you ever want to see your other friends ever again, you have to continue seeing your best friend, too. Because if Nine refused to be in the same place as Five ever again, he would never see the twins or Six, because they had known Five longer and would naturally side with him. Plus, Nine _was_ being the asshole in the current situation, having taken advantage of Five and then smashed his heart into a million pieces, even though Nine's own soul felt flattened and torn apart. Besides, technically, Five had seduced _him_… which was support for the whole Nine-might-not-be-so-straight-as-he-once-thought theory.

God, this was all just a confusing, horrible mess.

Nine tried to keep his thoughts focused on visiting Six, but he couldn't help thinking about Five, and it was strange. He felt no different than he ever had, thinking about Five – warm, in his heart, full of fondness and affection, and yet now it was tinged with that image, the lingering memory of the taste of his skin, his tender kisses, his… But even that, it wasn't so strange, it seemed to fit, as if it had been there all along, it…

Coldly, Nine came to a sickening conclusion. Maybe, he did love his best friend – loved Five. Maybe he always had.

He nearly balked, but decided to follow through and go to Six's anyway. Maybe he could get over it, squash it, and everything would go back to normal. That was all he wanted. He wanted Five back as a friend, without the complications, without all of this… this pain.

_Do I love him?_

_What about Seven?_

Nine felt cold all over as he knocked on Six's door, zipping and unzipping his hoodie anxiously. The door was red.

Five answered. Nine immediately smelled weed on him. His eye was bloodshot, his mouth slightly slack, his cheeks flushed; but even as stoned as he was, when he saw Nine, his face paled out and his eyebrow pitched upwards as if he was about to cry. He lowered his gaze and stood aside without a word, and Nine brushed by him, shoving his hands in his pockets to stop his trembling.

"Thought you were quitting weed, man," Nine muttered, and Five didn't answer.

The tension was clearly getting to Six, who shied away from their touches and mumbled to himself, glancing between them with a faint frown on his face. The twins, equally intuitive, clustered around Five and Nine until they were forced to sit together. When Three was satisfied that Five wouldn't budge, he climbed into Six's lap.

Five smelled strongly of grass, and of cinnamon, and Nine knew he had seen Two, had probably… had probably…

The jealousy turned his vision black. Nine couldn't remember what movie they watched, whether it involved werewolves or naked girls or ghosts or what. He couldn't remember anything other than the rhythm of Five breathing beside him, the sounds of Six, murmuring to Three to stop kissing him, and Three relentlessly carrying on anyway until Six smiled and softly laughed.

Five had gone to Two for comfort, had put himself in that terrible position, in danger, all because of Nine's failure as a friend. If Nine hadn't… then Five wouldn't have gone and gotten himself victimized by that old Jewish geezer, and…

"Why did you do that?" Nine snapped at Five, who blinked at him slowly, and sucked on his lip. His eye welled with tears.

"Please don't," he whispered. Sometimes he could be so strong, and also so very weak. "Please… let's just not. Let's forget, please, please, please."

He slumped then into Nine's chest, needing him more than he was hurt by him, and hung tightly onto his shirt. Everyone watched them without speaking as Nine wrapped his arms tightly around Five, that familiar, timeless gesture, almost automatic in him now. He burrowed his face into Five's soft nest of auburn hair and struggled not to cry.

"So sorry," he murmured, and Five shook his head sharply.

"No, _no,_ please, please don't, please…"

"Okay, all right…"

And although nothing was all right, nothing was okay, the rest of the evening passed uneventfully, safe, without pain.

--

The weather the next day was unseasonably warm. Five had come back to the hotel with Nine, but he slept on the rollaway by an unspoken agreement, and the morning was tense and silent. Five put on Nine's pants by accident and was mortified by his mistake, but Nine couldn't help feeling amused, and maybe a little smug, though he wasn't sure why.

"Want to skip out on school and skateboard today?" Nine asked.

Five shrugged, scuffing his shoe on the floor. "I guess. It's Monday, anyway."

Nine realized suddenly that Seven had been missing for two and a half weeks. And he had cheated on her… and she was completely MIA. When she came back, if she came back… What would he say?

Because they weren't going to school, Five and Nine lazed around for a while, watching some _Mythbusters_ and snacking on some chocolate muffins Nine had smuggled up from the complimentary breakfast bar down in the lobby. They didn't really talk, still awkward around each other; and every time Nine looked at Five, his mouth would dry up and his stomach would clench and he would want to throw up and shout and cry and kiss him all at once, and he was so conflicted, tangled in himself, that he was afraid to even speak. Five kept sucking on his lip and tugging on his eye patch in that nervous way he did.

"Listen," Nine started, and Five looked at him and shook his head.

"Please, don't."

"Do you think they'll ever figure out that Six started the fire?" Nine asked instead.

"I don't know. I didn't see how he did it. Your house lit up so fast." Five's mouth twitched. "It was horrible, but it was so beautiful, too, it was…"

"I know. I know."

They were quiet a while longer, until the supply of muffins dwindled, and Five squirmed and fidgeted before he finally exploded. "I'm going to go to school, after all, I think."

"Oh, Five…"

"I've got to. I've already been absent too much anyway at school. I've got to. Plus, I told Two I would. I've got to." Five scrambled for his backpack, shoving things into it that might not have even been his. "Okay? I'm going."

"Five…"

But then Five was out the door, and gone.

Nine sighed, putting his face in his hands. He cried, but only a few shallow tears, before he gathered up his skateboard and went out on his own. The autumn air was mild and comfortable, but quiet without Five's voice in it.

The skate park was deserted, as expected. It wasn't as fun to skate alone, and Nine didn't feel the particular urge to do any tricks. He fumbled around by himself, listening to the sounds of his wheels on the pavement, not even bothering with his iPod. He had intended to take the time to think, maybe, but it felt good not to think at all, after all – not to have the image of Five's face, Five's body, on the edge of his mind all of the time. It was strange, but he felt empty and lonesome without his second half there with him. He hadn't realized that he had become so dependent on his best friend.

The last thing he expected was to hear Seven's voice from across the park, "_Nine!_" cutting through the silent autumn air like a knife.

He turned and saw her coming towards him, jogging. She looked the same as she ever had, not sick at all, and he laughed when he saw her, pleased.

"There you are! I thought you died. What's going on? Why haven't you been at school?"

She slowed and stood before him. Something in her expression was solid, determined, which told him she was about to do something he might not like. He saw her fists clench and he thought she might hit him, but she swung them back and forth harmlessly as if she couldn't keep still. Her lips were drawn into a tight line until they paled out, and when he looked into her eyes, she scowled.

"I need to talk to you," she said, and something in her voice sounded wavering, flighty.

"Let's sit, or something. You look kind of pale." He reached out for her, and she batted his hand away impatiently.

"Stop. Stop it."

"Okay, okay."

"Listen." She took a deep breath, and seemed to blanch even more; she pushed her hand through her hair, and he had never seen her so nervous before. She wouldn't look in his face. "I ran away because I couldn't take it anymore. I tried to go home, but Pop locked me out, and I guess it's better because he wouldn't want me anyway, once he knew. It's sick. Sinful, he'd say. It's… I'm a fucking failure, and I've ruined everything. And I won't go to Yale, now. And I probably won't be able to do much of anything, now, but I figured I would tell you, I've got to. I was stupid to be so afraid."

"What?" Nine was helpless to keep up with her, the way girls dumped all of their thoughts into a single rant like that. He couldn't take apart the pieces. "Why won't you go to Yale? I thought you wanted to go to Yale."

"You fucking moron. I do, but…" She stomped her foot and ground her teeth in frustration, shoving her hands in her pockets and swaying as if she would bolt at any moment. "You… I can't, because I'm pregnant."

The words ran over Nine like water, washing him out and leaving him cold and empty. He couldn't seem to draw breath, saw spots, and felt suddenly ill, as if he might faint. He moved his mouth to speak, and no sound came. Seven's face snapped in and out of focus.

"What?" he asked stupidly. His tongue felt numb.

"Pregnant!" she shouted, and then she screamed, and he had never heard her like that before, so angry, so afraid. She punched him hard in the gut, but somehow it barely registered. He retched, but nothing came up. "_I'm fucking pregnant! What the fuck am I going to do_?"

Only retarded things would come out of Nine's mouth, because next he blurted, "I thought you were on birth control, or _something_!"

"Me? _Fuck_, no! _Fuck_!" She punched him again in the arm, and he wasn't angry with her for it, because he believed this might be her way of crying. "Oh, _God,_" she moaned, and put her face in her hands, turning away from him, and he saw it, then: the subtle curve of her stomach, bowing just slightly outward like it never had before. She was three months along, he calculated, probably, and he sat down hard on the cement. His future vanished into the distance before his very eyes, sunk into a single point in the universe and popped through it, never to return.

"What are we going to do?" he asked, and his voice was very small.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know." She kicked the ground and started to pace. "I had to go away, I had to, I couldn't take it. But I can't, I won't… I won't go and get it… I won't kill it. I can't. I can't."

Blindly, Nine went to hug her, and she punched him again, and this time his nose started to bleed.

"Pregnant," she said, and the word was ugly, horrible. "My dad will never take me back." Then, almost with a tinge of madness, like Six when his mind launched into places too dark for anyone else to fathom, "I've got to go, got to go, got to."

"Where are you going to go? You can't just _go_, you…"

She was backing up, her eyes somewhere far beyond him, far beyond the planet itself. She bit her lip hard. "I've got a cousin I can stay with," she said softly. "It doesn't matter."

"What are you going to do?" he was asking, but she was still backing up, ready to bolt. "Wait! _Wait_, oh God, please…"

"Don't talk to me," she said, and looked at him. Her eyes burned through his soul. "Don't touch me. I don't want to see you. Not ever. We're through. Be my friend. Please, be my friend."

"We're… what? No, wait, please…"

"What? _What_? There's nothing else to say."

"Please don't go."

She shook her head, took another step backwards, and she was right on the threshold.

"I'm in love with Five," he said, and he had no idea where the statement had come from, why it would come now, of all times, but there it was, his most painful confession, but Seven didn't seem hurt.

"I know," she said softly, every muscle tensing, and he knew what she was going to do now, had to stop her. The air seemed clean and transparent between them, and they saw each other raw, peeled down to their most basic selves, and Nine knew now what was right. Seven took a sharp breath, glancing around as if afraid. "I know. It's okay. I know."

He reached for her; his fingertips brushed the sleeve of her T-shirt; and then she was running, running away, and he was so very alone, so alone. He chased her, but she had always been faster than him, better in every way, and when she turned at the corner, he knew she was gone, gone, gone.

**-- to be continued**

I completely forgot how pivotal this chapter was. My bad.

A lot of you predicted this beforehand, but it wasn't hard to get, probably. This chapter's got a little melodrama, but it's... necessary. Things have really hit rock bottom - like, literally. We're at the bottom of the hill, folks. It's only up from here.


	19. Forgiveness

**Testament**

Nine didn't realize he had been crying until the door to the hotel room swung open, and he looked up and felt the dampness of his cheeks hit the cool air. He felt ashamed, and naked, as Five stood in the doorway and looked at him.

"Nine…"

"Don't," Nine rasped, hid his face, and a fresh wave of tears came. He heard Five coming, but couldn't restrain the quiet cry of relief as those warm, familiar arms wrapped around him. "Oh, God…"

"_Nine_," Five whispered into his hair. "Nine, what happened?"

Nine's whole body felt weak and drained. He clutched at Five's jacket with numb, shaking hands, burying his face into that broad shoulder, and even though he wasn't crying anymore, he continued to breathe in shakily, trembling, whimpering. "Seven," he said, and Five's arms tensed around him.

"What happened to her? Is she okay?"

"She's pregnant, Five… she's… _God_. What am I going to do?"

"Oh, Nine… Stupid, stupid…" Five shook his head, pulled Nine closer to him, until they were aligned. Nine pressed until Five lay back, and Nine rested on top of him; from this new angle, Five ran his fingers gently through Nine's hair. "You always hit rock bottom so hard," Five murmured. "Nine…"

"Don't talk. Need you. Don't talk."

"Okay."

"Five…"

"No, I know, it's okay…" Five let out a tired laugh, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room, and Nine relaxed in the vibrations of that rumbling chuckle. "Pregnant."

"I don't know what's going to happen," Nine said, his voice muffled. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I _always_ make such stupid mistakes. What am I going to do? What? What am I going to do?"

"We'll figure it out. I'll be here for you, okay? I promise."

"What would I do without you?"

Five didn't say anything, and that was all right. They lay together in silence for the better part of an hour, there on that bed where they had laid each other down and discovered each other in every manner, and Five held him until Nine's tears stopped flowing, and the panic began to ebb. He looked up and saw that intense hazel eye peering down at him, and his mouth dried up inexplicably, and it must have shown in his expression, that deep pang in his gut, because Five's eye widened, and his lips parted as if in surprise, and he hitched in a quiet breath.

"Nine…"

"I told her I loved you," Nine said, and it came out in a whisper.

The room was heavy with tension. Five stared at him for a long time.

When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "Did you mean it?"

"Yes." It came out like a sigh. "I don't know why. I don't know if it's even right, but it feels so… I know it was true. I don't understand it, but I _know_ it."

"I don't know." Five sucked on his lip and his gaze sunk down and to the left, away from Nine's questioning stare. He had been hurt so badly, beaten.

"Five… Five, please…"

"No, I don't know, I don't…"

"I'm so sorry. So sorry. I need you. I'm sorry. I love you." And it felt strange to say it, then, to his face, as if he had torn out a small piece of himself and set it out for Five to judge and reject and criticize, and he was afraid, petrified. He felt stripped of everything that made him strong, and he felt so young, so naïve, and scared.

For a long beat, Five didn't say anything, and then a small smile spread over his features. Nine let out an involuntary sob of relief as Five cupped his cheek and guided his face towards him; Nine jumped the gap, eager, lunging towards him to claim him, and they kissed thoroughly, wetly, so tenderly, so slowly, until Nine was aching all over for more. Five moaned low in his throat and it drove Nine crazy. For no good reason, he felt connected, filled, as if they had always been this way, one.

He realized, belatedly, that he had started crying again, and he felt naked, ashamed.

His mouth ran without him and he pinched his eyes shut, letting it all come in a flood. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, I didn't ever mean to... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Love you," Five whispered into his hair, planting kisses along Nine's temple and forehead, soft, sweet. He forgave and forgave and forgave. Then his voice pitched down, that familiar voice that sent shockwaves of lust up Nine's back, the same one he had used on Two, that _I'm-Going-To-Fuck-You-Till-You-Can't-See-Straight _voice, that voice _dripping_ with sex, that voice, that voice. "Love you, love you, love you."

Blindly, trying to lean forward into Five and backwards all at once, squirming out of his hoodie, Nine pawed at the wall and turned out the lights.

--

By the end of it, they had probably woken up the whole floor; Five liked to scream, a _lot_, and couldn't be stifled by pleas or threats or kisses. Nine found that he, himself, tended to shout and cry out, which was strange, because he never had with Seven. This was a rushing, careening sort of pleasure he had never known existed, sweeping heat and crashing, screaming finales that left him weak and tingling all over, throbbing with a faint headache, breathless, exhausted, craving more. He couldn't get enough; not of Five's sounds, his freckled skin, the puff of laughter against his shoulder, that hazel eye locked on him, that look of wonderment and need and…

Nine would never forget, never, the firm, real feeling of Five's body under his hand.

At the end, deep into the early morning, trembling with exhaustion, Five's hoarse, worn-out scream echoed through the quiet room, "_God, Nine, I love you_," and maybe that was what undid him, in the end, made Nine start to sob hot slick tears, letting go of everything with a faint whimper that died in his mouth, and immediately afterwards he tumbled into a hard, bottomless sleep, still crying, even as Five kissed the tears away and whispered into his hair and mouth beautiful, beautiful, priceless things.

--

"My mom stopped calling me," Five whispered in the middle of the night, when they had both woken up for no reason at all, tangled in each other. His hair tickled Nine's chin; his breath tickled Nine's throat; his fingers tickled his hip, just barely, absent-mindedly. It made Nine flash hot, but he kept quiet.

"Why?"

"I don't know." Some silence. Nine breathed in, and Five contineud with a sigh. "Maybe she gave up. She knows where I am."

"Hmm."

"Nine?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Nine grinned into the dark, silent night.

--

He woke to the feeling of Five kissing him gently awake, his mouth moist with sleep-drool, his hands hot and dry and tickling. Nine laughed, squirming until Five pinned him down until he sank into the bed, and kissed him harder, breathless. His mouth tasted weird, more than stale, sort of like… _well_.

"Mmmph," Nine said presently, and Five relented.

The look in his face hurt a little. His single eye was wide and nervous, his eyebrow tilted anxiously upwards. He bit his lip as if fearful, and Nine never wanted to see him looking that way again, not because of him.

"Come here," he whispered, surprised to find his voice raw from shouting and laughing and crying, and shyly Five inched closer to him. Nine stroked his hair until the worried look was soothed away. This morning wouldn't be like the last. Nine wouldn't let it. "Good morning, Five."

Five gave a soft, delighted laugh. "Good morning."

"School today, do you think?" Nine asked between reassuring kisses, trying to get used to the little burst of electricity at every contact.

"No," Five mumbled, his voice blurred. He was still tired. "Fuck school."

Nine looked up at the bland hotel room ceiling as Five slumped bonelessly into his arms, all warm weight, and it was kind of weird, still – to feel that naked male body against his own. He wasn't used to it, still wasn't completely sure he liked it, even though something felt inherently _good_ and _right_ about it.

Seven never used to snuggle.

"I'm sore all over," Five continued, his voice muffled by Nine's shoulder.

"Me too."

"You're rough." A pause. "Just, really… enthusiastic."

Nine laughed until he farted, and this launched them both into fresh hysterics, until they were gasping for air and even sorer than before. It was a good catharsis, Nine thought, the release of that negative energy, and now they could enjoy each other, a complete unit. He felt lighter than ever before, and safe, even though his world was in a state of upset – here with Five, gentle Five, trusting Five, brilliant Five. He balanced Nine out in every way, the reserve to Nine's impulsiveness, the answers to his questions, the patience to his flightiness. His total compliment, completing him, smoothing over his flaws and shortcomings as Nine smoothed over Five's. They always had.

"Hey, Five," Nine whispered, pinching him.

Five whined, having been nearly asleep again. "What?"

"You're the peanut butter to my jelly."

"Go to sleep, retard."

When the room service maid waltzed into the room later that day, she got an eyeful she wasn't likely to forget for a very long time.

--

Nine had never been so unbelievably randy in his life. They left to visit Six around lunchtime, driving in the minivan, and they pulled over twice to fool around, until Five laughed so hard they couldn't continue. It was good to see him laugh, so carefree for once, because he hadn't been in a long, long time. Nine, himself, was laden to his ears with worry, enough of it to be sick, but something about Five's presence made the burden seem less.

He had lucked out in one respect, anyway, and it was this: Five was a teenage male, like Nine, and therefore just as horny. There would be no issues of patiently waiting for him to be in the mood, because he was _always_ in the mood. Now Nine understood why Three had been in such high spirits lately, with Six, who was apparently much more experimental and risky than he let on. Well… except for recently, because of the fire.

"Do you think he's all right?" Nine asked as they pulled up to Six's house.

"Six? I don't know." Five yawned, leaning against the door. His hair was adorably tousled, and Nine felt a rush of warm affection and maybe a bit of smugness. "I'm worried about him."

"I thought he was doing better, and then… Then…"

"He might not have done it," Five mumbled thoughtfully. "I mean, he was pretty out of it. He was hearing voices, for sure… Maybe he didn't do it, but he thought he did."

"Seems like a fat coincidence to me. I just hope they don't pin it on him. He can't help it, and he's a good kid, he…" Nine sighed, rubbing his temples. "I guess there's no point worrying about it."

"No," Five agreed, though he bit his lip nervously. "No."

Nine gave his friend a pensive once-over, taking in his strong jaw and wide shoulders and slender waist, the way his brown jacket hung heavily off of him, the shadow under his eye, his red, abused mouth, and they both started to smile all at once.

"You ready to tell them?"

"I guess. I guess we've got to." Five was grinning ear to ear.

They piled out of the car and raced each other to the red front door. Nine caught the back of Five's jacket, dragging him back, and Five shouted and laughed and fell down. The twins heard the clamor and opened the door, watching them with amusement. When they had Nine's attention, they beckoned them inside, tempting them with promises of pizza and cookies.

As Five and Nine passed through the doorway, a look came over Three's face, and he stamped his foot in excitement, pointing, gesturing frantically. Five looked confused, but Nine caught on immediately – Three could tell. Already, he could tell.

Four got the message and started signing at a frenzied pace, and Five tangled up his words as he struggled to translate, until he was giggling, and the twins were swamping them with congratulatory hugs. Five ruffled their hair and smiled at Nine over the top of them, and Nine hadn't seen him so glad in a long time. When hugs were over, the twins sandwiched Five and Nine together, making them laugh.

Six, with his mouth full of Oreos, could only smile approvingly around his chipmunk cheeks and clap.

The excitement died down, and Five went to get some pizza. Nine was busy staring at him, kind of impressed with himself that he had seen and touched that body in all the places that could be possibly seen and touched, and marveling over that treasure which had been left undiscovered for so long – and he barely noticed when Four put a sticky note on his leg with uncharacteristic gentleness.

_Eight came by looking for him. Watch over him. Fat-ass is on a rampage_.

Nine's good mood went instantly flat. "Thanks," he said sullenly, and Four put on a tired smile. He was the only one not dating, now. It had caused subtle tension between the twins, though Three divided his time quite efficiently between him and Six when he could.

Five came back, sitting beside Nine with his mouth full of pizza. He spotted Nine's expression and frowned. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing," Nine lied. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Promise," Nine said, and kissed him, tasting tomato sauce. The wrinkle of worry between Five's eyebrows smoothed out instantly, like magic, and he smiled.

The twins gawked, grinning, and nudged each other.

"I knew it would happen," Six said without interest, and turned on the television.

-- **to be continued**

There's only about three chapters left of this, folks. Once it's over, I'll start on my next projects I have lined up. :3

Uhhh... I don't have much to say about this chapter. So... yup.

You guys are so wonderful with your feedback. You're the best! :3 And it always just brings me such joy to see people who have been reading a while and who are coming out to say something... and my new readers, too! All of you guys just rock. Keep it up!


	20. Call

**Testament**

Five had a very large, voluptuous ass, for a boy. In no way did it rival Seven's, no – but it was still a fine ass, all things considered. It was free of freckles, which was a strange thing, except for a small scattering.

Nine liked to stare at it whenever Five started walking. It was a difficult pastime, because Five wore baggy pants most of the time, unlike Nine, who liked the feeling of his jeans fitting close to his skin. He wondered if Five looked at _his_ ass when he walked away, and for some reason the thought made him warm and pleased.

"What are you thinking about?" Five asked, skating alongside him.

"Nothing. Well. You."

"Me?"

"Yeah." Nine rolled off of the curb but stopped himself from falling.

"What about?" Wow, what was that in Five's voice? It sounded playful, kind of smug, as if he already knew. It wasn't a tone Nine heard often.

"Eight's looking for you," Nine said, figuring now was as good a time as any to bring it up. "Because you haven't paid him, and you quit smoking."

"Yeah." Five frowned. "Yeah."

"What are you going to do?"

"Pay him, I guess. And then…"

"You won't buy any more, though, right?"

Five bit his lip. "No. I don't need to, anymore."

"Right. Because I'm here for you, okay?"

"Always. I know. Always."

"Always." They skated along in silence for a long while before Nine spoke up again, spotting the street his hotel was on in the distance. The setting sun cast a glare in his eyes. "Seven won't talk to me, still."

Five's voice took on a hard edge, and he stared ahead. "She can't ignore you forever. It's your baby."

That statement made Nine feel a little sick. "I know. But I feel so guilty."

"Don't. It takes two."

"I… I don't know."

From the way Five ran a hand through his hair (a nervous habit he had picked up from Nine), it was clear he didn't want to continue. "It was a mistake. Just… an accident."

Nine plowed on anyway. "I tried calling her. She won't answer my texts, or anything. Her dad won't let her back home and I'm afraid to go visit him because he'll probably hire a hit man or some shit, I mean…"

"You think too much." When Nine looked at him, surprised, Five raised an eyebrow as if also puzzled by himself. "I mean… Just, you know?"

"I guess." Then, turning onto the street and seeing the hotel, "I guess, I guess."

Five reached out and held Nine's hand. His palm was warm and dry and soft and big. Nine felt a vague thrill, showing affection out here in public. They always had before, but now it had a different connotation. Everyone in the whole world could see them, now. He felt so naked, holding Five's hand out in the open like that, on the street – but it was good. It was nice. It was safe.

"I don't know what I'm going to do when she… When the baby…" Nine squeezed Five's hand hard to express his anxiousness.

"You'll do what you've got to," Five said, his eyes fixed firmly on the hotel as it came nearer. "We'll do what we've always done and make it all right."

Nine knew they would pull through. They had to.

--

They woke up in the hazy, red time between sunrise and daylight, and Nine experienced slow, lazy morning sex for the first time. It smelled not all that great, but it felt good, and sometimes that was all that mattered. Afterwards, they ate a breakfast of stale doughnuts and played Halo for two hours. Five kept burping and making Nine laugh, and Nine kept getting texts from Six talking about the migration of a speck of lint on Three's sweater. It was red, and no one was entirely sure where it had come from, because the twins only ever wore blue and Six only ever wore black and white… and anyway, it was apparently quite a fascination for him, because this descriptive journey had been updated to Nine every ten minutes for the past hour and a half. It ended with, "_OH GOD, HE PICKED IT OFF, IT'S IN THE TRASH_!" which, while hilarious, was a little worrying as well.

"I'm tired," Five muttered, rubbing his eye. He slumped into Nine and pretended to be asleep, and Nine marveled at the ease with which they had slipped into this new relationship, how natural it felt to wrap an arm around him and tickle him until he squirmed and mewled and begged for mercy, to kiss him until his giggles died away. In a way, the emotion between them hadn't changed – somehow, they had stepped across the border into love a long time ago – but there was a new level of intimacy, the bounds of their trust, the clarity, the jolt Nine felt when he looked at him, how much he wanted him, all of the time. Perhaps that was why they had snuggled so often. It made sense, in retrospect.

"You think too much," Five said, running his thumb along Nine's eyebrow to make it uncrinkle.

"You keep saying that," Nine said, smiling helplessly.

"Well, you do."

Nine pinched him. "Did I tell you, they found out what started the fire?"

Five's mouth popped and shut again. "What?"

"An electrical short. They said it was an accident."

"Oh, Nine…"

"I know! I know." Nine beamed. "We're going to be all right. I told you, I said."

"Do you think it was? Was it?"

"I don't know… It doesn't matter. Does it matter?"

"No, no, it doesn't matter." Five was grinning like an idiot. "Oh, poor Six… I'm glad. I'm glad."

"I don't know anything about it, really... Do you think, maybe... you'll live with us, when my mom gets another house?"

Five smiled faintly, his eyebrows pitching up, and he opened his mouth to respond when his cell phone rang. Scowling at the interruption, he checked it. "It's my mom," he said numbly, looking at Nine with an expression of panic on his face. His mother never called unless there was an emergency – and sometimes not even then. "Should I answer it?"

Nine was stunned. "What? Yes, yes answer it."

Five did. "Mom?" A long pause, in which his face scrunched up and up. "Calm down, I can't… What? Mom... Wait, wait…"

He got up and walked to the bathroom, leaning in the doorway in order to have some semblance of privacy. Nine watched the lean outline of his body thoughtfully, and then turned away, screwing around with his cell phone and tuning out the conversation out of respect for his friend. This worked for about five minutes before something changed in the tone of Five's voice, the cadence slowing, his pitch dropping. Nine looked up, but couldn't see his face; Five's back was turned to him, his shoulders hunched.

"Mom… Mom, no, no, no," he said, and his voice wavered, and Nine knew he must have been crying. "Don't cry, Mom, please… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Mom… H-How did he…?" A pause. "O-Oh… Are you all right? Okay…"

As silently as possible, Nine got up and came from behind, pressing a hand to the center of Five's back to let him know he was there, and Five melted, leaning into him, sobbing, and Nine held him.

"Mom, I'll come home, okay? I'll come home later… Okay, yes… Yes, Mom… I love you, Momma, okay?"

He hung up, and didn't speak for a long time after that, just letting Nine hold him, gently rocking him, and Nine was all right with that.

"_Five_," he whispered, and Five moaned lowly, in a gravelly sort of way, his throat raw.

"My dad," he said. "My dad, oh God…"

"What happened? What did he do?" Nine was prepared to get angry. Sometimes, when he didn't have Five around to take his anger out on, Five's dad would turn on his mother. "What did that fucker do?"

"Nine, he died. He's dead." Five's voice was tiny.

It was quiet. "Oh," Nine said softly, and found he had no words. "What happened?"

"G-Got drunk, a-and I guess he… he um… Drowned, he… He got in the bathtub, a-and…"

"Oh, Five… Five…"

"No, no, it's…" But here came a fresh wave of tears, and there was no soothing them away this time. Five hung onto him with every last fiber of his strength, until Nine could barely breathe.

Inside, he couldn't help feeling glad that the bastard was dead, even with Five trembling in his arms. He was glad, glad, glad.

Even now, it seemed, the shadow of his father still loomed.

--

"Are you upset about it?" Nine asked, lying on the hotel room floor (which was more uncomfortable than one would suspect). "Do you miss him?"

"No… I don't know." Five nuzzled his neck tiredly. Nine was sometimes irritated with Five's neediness, his constant crises, and yet, at times like these, it seemed such a small price to pay. "I can't really talk about it right now."

"You know," Nine said, his voice going softer, "you smell so good, when you're not smoking weed."

"Really?"

"Mmm. Really."

"I feel weird, without it. My dad. I don't know what the word is. It's weird, it's… Never mind, just…"

Nine felt lost in these depths. He didn't know how to comfort Five for this one, and it hurt. "Do you need anything? Give me something to do."

"I can't right now, Nine… Just hold me."

"Okay. Okay."

They stayed up talking most of the night, and were exhausted at school the next day.

--

Nine checked his phone over lunch. Still nothing from Seven.

"Stop worrying," Five said, without even looking at him.

"I can't help it. What am I going to do?"

"I don't know." Five glanced at him and turned on his sweet smile that melted Nine down into his rawest materials. "But when the time comes, you'll know."

He always knew just the right thing to say.

Three was asleep in Four's lap. Four stroked his hair lovingly, over and over. Nine wondered if he was ever lonely.

-- **to be continued**

Good lord, folks! 150 reviews! I'm so stunned, you have no idea. And you folks are like, the most amazing ever with your feedback. You notice things even I don't notice - and it helps me in the long run. You're really just awesome, and I appreciate the time and effort you put in to let me know what you're thinking. So thank you. :3

As for the chapter... um... Five's pop is a dead man. And luckily (be it true or no), Six is not held accountable for the fire. Double-hurray!


	21. Freedom

**Testament**

Fall struck the city hard on Thursday. Nine woke up freezing, thunder rattling the window. Five was snuggled up to him, dead to the world, astonishingly warm, snoring a little. He could probably sleep through the apocalypse.

"Hey, man," Nine said, surprised how raw his voice came out. "Hey… hey… Wake up, man, we've got school."

Five stirred slightly, smearing drool across Nine's shoulder, his brilliant hazel eye flickering open. "Huh?"

"We're going to be late."

"Don't want to go to school."

Nine frowned. "Really?"

Five raised an eyebrow at him, speaking slowly, though probably less out of condescension and more out of drowsiness. "My dad died, Nine."

"Right. Right, I'm sorry. You can go back to sleep." Nine pressed an apologetic kiss to Five's forehead, and Five smiled, settling back in to sleep. Nine lay there contentedly for a while, enjoying the heat of Five's body, the rise and fall of his chest, the puff of his breath on his ear, the occasional soft kiss there that told him that Five was still awake. But it would have to end, Nine thought – he would have to go to school, even if Five wouldn't, because he had too many absences and was about to lose credit in his boring government class.

"Gotta go," he said over Five's protesting groans, his hands hanging onto him, gripping his pajama shirt.

"Stay," Five whined, and Nine laughed. He had always been horrible in the morning. He would snuggle until he starved, if given the chance. He had always been one of the more touchy-feely ones.

"Gotta go, seriously. I'll be late."

Five pouted, and Nine was sorely tempted, but he put his foot down.

"Enough. I'm going. I'll text you, okay? Eat something."

Five sulked and ignored him. Nine smiled at him fondly, got dressed with efficiency, and slipped out into the hallway without a sound.

--

The text came in third period. Nine checked it under the desk, half-awake, but was jolted with fresh energy when he saw who it was from. It was Seven.

_Really need to talk to you. See you at lunch. Tell the twins to wait it out._

She didn't want them eavesdropping, probably, or seeing her stomach. It was a disconnected thought, really – the size of her stomach in relativity to the size of the child growing inside of it, his child, their child… Half of him, an enormous new reality developing inside of her, that would come in six – no, five and a half, less than that – months and rip his fragile world to pieces. He wondered how she could stand it. She was such a flighty girl, so active, so incredibly independent and singular… how it must have made her crazy, to always have that weight, that person depending on her. He felt guilty for putting it there, even if she had initiated the whole thing.

He managed to convince the twins to stay behind while he went out to meet Seven, even though it required a bribe of chocolate and porn. After five minutes, she came walking around the corner, shoulders hunched. He couldn't see her face; her hair covered it, but he could see her mouth, pursed tightly until it was white. From this angle, he couldn't really see her stomach, the shape of it.

He expected her to stop in front of him, but she just kept coming until she was hugging him tightly, pushing all of the air from his lungs.

She'd never hugged him before, and he was stunned. "Seven?" he gasped, getting his arms around her after a moment of confusion.

"Oh, God," she croaked. "Nine, Nine, Nine…"

"What's going on? Wait, wait… Are you crying?"

No, she wasn't, but she had been. Her eyeliner was streaked down her face like two dark skid marks. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was pink. When she saw his expression soften, she scowled at him and set her jaw. "Don't fucking pity me," she said, and scrubbed at her eyes angrily with her sleeve. With her free hand, she socked him in the shoulder. He let it slide. "You smell like him. I guess I figured, I guess, I saw it before, I figured. It's okay, though, it's good, you deserve it."

"What did you want to talk about?" Nine asked, hearing that familiar, spiraling pitch and recognizing the beginning of a breakdown. He hoped that getting her back on track would stop her from gibbering and outright sobbing. She was violent enough to begin with – he didn't want to know what she was like when she had gone over the edge. It must have been the hormones, probably.

Her breath came in deep, throaty spikes, like sobs. She looked at her feet and spoke in a voice so quiet he wasn't sure he had heard her right. "Baby's gone."

"What?"

It was such a weird thing to say, nonsensical. Babies don't vanish into mid-air, they…

She glanced up at him, and he saw she wasn't kidding. Her face crumpled, and he had never seen her so vulnerable before, not ever.

"I can't run anymore, not from this. God, I want to." The tears started flowing again, but when he went to hold her, she shoved him away and stood her ground. "I miscarried."

"You… really? You…" Nine felt weak, dizzy. He sat down hard on the storm-soaked grass, but Seven still stood, ready to head for the hills and never come back. He could see that dangerous aura around her, every fiber of her screaming to get away, go away, and he couldn't get a grip on her, couldn't stop her slipping between his fingers.

"Stop it, stop your crying," she snapped, and he realized that he _was_ crying, a little, and he had no idea why. "Stop it!"

"I'm sorry," he said numbly, taking her in. She looked no different than she ever had, except that her hair was a little bit longer, and she had a fresh scar on her chin. He wondered where she had been this entire time, if she was all right. "How did it happen?"

"Shit. I don't know. Shit. Doctors couldn't say anything." She scuffed her shoe on the cement. "They don't know anything. Something about the umbilical cord, or something. Something."

"I'm sorry, Seven…"

"Don't. Don't. Look, I don't want your sympathy or your apologies or anything. We can still be friends, and everything… Pop's letting me come back home, and everything, it's just… I thought I should tell you." She shrugged, and she looked so naked, so raw. She wouldn't look him in the face. "Sorry for putting you through this."

"Scared the living shit out of me, personally," Nine said, and for some reason this made her smile.

"You're a good kid," she said, in just the barest, rough whisper. "We fucked up big time, Nine."

"Yeah. Yeah, we did."

The silence was long and heavy. She bit her lip and shoved her hands in her pockets, shivering a little.

"Come here," he said, and she knelt beside him; he held her tight, and something in her seemed to break. She grabbed onto him with all of her might and cried, a hiccupping, feminine sound he hadn't expected. He hugged her and let her cry, let her bleed out every last poisonous feeling, and in a way, he felt like he was being cured, as well. Her whole body shook with her sobs, and he had no way of understanding what she must have been feeling then, what sort of emotion was running through her, but it was something great than he would ever know, to make her cry like that, break down like that, open herself up like that. She needed him, and he loved her, in that deep tender way of friends. She was a tough girl – a very tough girl.

When it was over, she smiled at him once, tiredly, and walked away. He wondered if he would ever see her again. He probably would. She always had a way of showing up when you needed her most.

Nine felt cold from head to toe, but okay. He was going to be okay.

--

When Nine came back to the hotel, Five was sprawled naked across the bed, eating a Pop Tart.

"Is there some sort of backstory to this?" Nine asked, taking in the view incredulously.

"Not really," Five said with a vague smile.

Nine couldn't quite work up the energy to smile back. Five sensed it, and frowned.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Nine muttered, then, "Seven miscarried."

Five opened his arms, and Nine fell willingly into them, not caring that Five was naked and covered in chocolate crumbs, not caring that they were in the middle of a cheap hotel room with his house burned down. None of it mattered anymore.

"Need you, need you," he whispered, and Five kept murmuring against him, pointless, comforting things.

"So sorry," he said in a gentle voice.

"No, no, it's…"

They looked each other in the eyes, saw the feelings of panic mirrored in each other, and they were both afraid, lost in the passage of adulthood coming at them in enormous, crushing waves.

"I'm not sure I can do this anymore," Five rasped. "Oh, God, I'm so scared."

"Me too. Me too. Oh, God, me too."

"Everything, Nine! Everything's so fucked up!" Five's voice caught and pitched up in that warning way.

"Don't, don't," Nine whispered, holding his face, kissing him over and over. "Please, everything will be okay, I promise. I promise. I'm here. I love you, okay? Love you."

Suddenly, with clarity and meaning, Five began to cry.

The tears came in a hot burst, and Five was sobbing there on the bed, rocking with the force of it – long, loud, tearing sobs, from the pit of him, and Nine could only kneel there and hold him to stop him being swept away in it, drowned in it. He had never cried like that before, so full of his heart and soul, as if he was finally pulling out the baggage and pain and toxicity and hate built up in him, wrenching up their bitter roots from the soil of his belly and burning them. He was cleansing, each cry like a release, the ugly history and mistakes pouring out, passing into the sun and away forever, freed from the shadows, prison, of his father, the drugs, Eight, Two, his eye, and everything. Finally, he was free.

He wept until he was asleep, and then wept through his dreams, softer and softer until he was only whimpering, and Nine held him until his arms were aching, and then still he held him. After a long, long while, Five was quiet and the tears stopped flowing; Nine kissed his slack mouth and watched whatever was on the television until night fell hard, and morning came on foggy, silent feet, pale blue and cold. An early snow came down and dusted everything with white.

When Nine looked down, he found Five smiling tiredly up at him.

"Dad's gone," he whispered, and got a goofy grin. "He's gone."

"Yes," Nine said with fervor. "He's never going to touch you ever again."

"Nine. Nine! He's gone!" Five laughed in pleasure. "He's dead! He's dead! And he's gone!"

Nine started laughing now, too, a little hysterical, caught up in their delirious new start.

"Bastard's six feet under!" Five crowed. He laughed until he cried.

They turned off their phones and spent the rest of the day together, eating day-old lasagna and watching re-runs of _South Park_, wrapped in each other's arms. Nine had never felt so free.

--

"I'm glad I have you to hold me up, sometimes," Nine said, stuffing his face with a hamburger (Six kept glaring at it disapprovingly, muttering things about PETA and murder).

Five smiled at him, clearly tired, his homework scattered around him on the bed. It probably wouldn't get done. "You? You hold me up."

"We hold each other up."

"Hmm." Five smiled and bit the end of his pencil endearingly before he looked back down at his work.

Six scribbled in his notebook, circles and circles and circles. He was visiting the hotel for no reason other than that he felt like it.

"My dad's wake is the day after tomorrow," Five said quietly. He didn't look up. "If you want to go… I want you to go…"

"Of course," Nine said, though the thought chilled him. He didn't like looking at dead bodies, but it was important for Five, to have that closure. To know the man was dead and gone and would never hurt him again. "Of course I'll go. For you."

"Thank you." Then, very softly, as if he was afraid to say it, "Thank you."

Six got a slow smile on his face, but he said nothing.

-- **to be continued**

Did I make you guys mad last chapter or something? Virtual silence from the peanut gallery. Aww, guys... made me sad. Haha.

Let's hear it for the second-to-last chapter! The pacing here is just... sub-par, even to me, but there's not much that can be done for it.

And... that's about it. I promise that over this week, because I have Thanksgiving break, at least one new chaptered project will be coming up, as well as, hopefully, a oneshot or two, and a new chapter for Water.


	22. Testament

**Testament**

Eight cornered them on the way back from school the next day. "Hey, faggots," he said, coming up from behind, and Five quickly took his hand out of Nine's, whirling around.

"I quit!" he said, his voice betraying his nervousness.

Eight's eyebrows shot up, and he looked genuinely confused. He glanced between Five and Nine twice before it seemed to click. "Damn, you really _are _faggots. Go figure."

"What do you want?" Nine asked, moving to shield Five with his body.

"I was just wondering why I wasn't getting my money," Eight growled. "Don't cover him, faggy junior, or I'll just smash you, too."

Nin felt that impulsive, angry feeling start to overtake him. "Go ahead, smash us. He says he quits. And he won't let you take from him anymore."

Eight chuckled, cracking his neck. "Uh huh? Is that so? Listen here, faggot…"

Five saw it coming first, cried out – the fist colliding with Nine's jaw and sending him spinning towards the pavement. He hit hard, scraping his elbow, but he scrambled back up to his feet as quickly as possible. Five tried to pull him back, but he wrenched free, launching a solid punch on Eight's nose.

"Fuck off!" he was shouting, but it sounded muted.

"Hey, man, Jesus!" Eight barked, covering his bloody nose. His eyes were flashing. "Some people gotta make a living, you know."

"Leave us alone."

Eight shoved him. "I don't want to do this, but if you won't pay up –"

Nine interrupted him by socking him in the gut. With an irritated grunt, Eight heaved him up off of the ground and tossed him, and then went for Five. He hit him once, twice, a third time, and Five hit the ground screaming, kicking; his hand caught a rock and he lobbed it at Eight's face. It struck home but seemed to have no effect. "I'm not afraid of you!" he was yelling. "I'm not afraid of you!"

Eight kicked him, and Nine was back on his feet, shucking his backpack. He caught sight of Five's bloody face from the corner of his eye, and this launched him into a shrieking fury, slugging on Eight's solid body as hard as he could, and Eight kept shoving him off, his face red.

"Stop it, pussy, stop it," he was saying, laughing, as if this was all good fun.

Five struggled to stand, spitting pink onto the sidewalk. A few cars slowed as they passed to watch the fight progress, but it didn't matter in the end. Out of nowhere, Seven came tearing down the street in her Converse and her leather jacket – she would have been walking with them if she hadn't been held up after school to start making up for her absences. She was making a high, constant sound ("_kyah!_") as she leapt from the curb onto Eight's back, driving her elbow against the back of his skull. There was a sickening crack, and he swerved hard right before he collapsed on someone's lawn, unconscious.

"Shit," she said, gasping for air and resting her hands on her knees. She had a wild grin on her face, and Nine adored her, with the same tenor but a different meaning as before. "I haven't run like that in a while. Good stuff. Asshole."

"Holy fuck," said Five, gawking at Eight's unconscious form. "Is he all right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just knocked him out. He'll be fine. Might have a headache, though." Seven swallowed loudly and, catching Nine's stare, smiled. "Hey, pretty boy."

"Thank you," he said dumbly. "That was amazing."

"I'm not a black belt for nothing," she said, and stood to crack her back. "That felt good."

Five laughed nervously, and stood again. When Seven looked at him, there was no hatred or jealousy in her eyes at all. She seemed nearly the same as she ever had, strong again, intact again, at peace. Nine felt an unexpected sensation of a weight being lifted off of his shoulders, as if a problem had been solved, and he wasn't sure what the problem ever was. He felt whole for the first time in a long time, all of the pieces fitting together.

Five sucked on his split lip and kicked Eight's body good-naturedly, just to get the last word in.

--

In the morning, Five brought Nine, Six, and the twins to his father's wake. Seven opted out, even though he had shyly invited her in a text. She promised to go to a movie with them later, though, and Nine was relieved. By no means was their mistake erased – the memory of that would-be child was fresh, and would always linger, full of what-could-have-beens. But they were on their way to recovering their friendship, and that was what was important.

All throughout the morning, Five was quiet and solemn. Six kept running up to him to hug him, and this would make him smile faintly, and at least that was something.

Something was hilarious about seeing the twins in conservative dress. It wasn't required, of course, but out of respect for Five, everyone in their crew was wearing button-down shirts and ties and slacks, and the twins differed only by the color of their ties (Three being baby blue, and Four being royal blue). They kept tugging at their clothing unhappily.

The entire event was uncomfortable and silent. There weren't many people coming to visit Five's dad. He was an asshole and a drunk. A few work friends, and relatives, and friends of Five's mother came and went, impassive, leaving flowers and hugs and empty words. The curtains were closed over the stained-glass windows, making everything shadowed and foreboding, but at least it seemed to suit the man. When they walked in, they were hit with the smell of dust and sadness.

Nine squeezed Five's hand once and then let him go. This wasn't his place, not this time.

Five came up to his open coffin and stared for a long, long time, utterly still, and when Nine checked on him nearly fifteen minutes later, he looked torn between a smile and tears. He touched the edge of that wooden box, and then took it away, too afraid to touch the waxy skin of his father.

"I can't believe he's gone," he said in a whisper that cut across the near-deserted church.

Nine gripped his arm and let go, stepping outside for fresh air. He couldn't stand it in there, that stuffy air, that heavy feeling of loss and anger and pain. Five's mom, crying, the sounds of the twins pacing in the back and making the floorboards squeak, the stifled murmur of guests.

Outside of that dark room, the sky was bright with sunshine, and the lawn glittered with snow. It was cold, but nice. Nine shoved his hands in his pockets and stared up into the vast, endless blueness of the atmosphere.

Six came out, once, to shiver and mutter and rub his hands. "So negative," he kept saying, tugging on the key he kept around his neck. "He had a bad soul."

"I know. But he's gone now."

"It's all bad. But it's better now. Passing." He smiled, and kicked some of the powdery snow on the sidewalk. "Good. Good thing. Everything's getting better now." He turned and went back inside. He had been doing so much better ever since setting the house on fire. Three kept him focused and alert and lucid, stable, reminded him to take his medication, hugged him when he was frightened. In a way, he was to Six like Five was to Nine – an essential lifeline, the one person who truly understood.

After another half-hour, Five escaped, slipping through the front door with a weighty sigh. "God," he said softly. "It's over."

"How are you feeling?" Nine asked, even though he knew, could read it in Five's open face.

Without speaking, Five came up to him and hugged him tight. "I feel so… Like I can reach out, as far as I want, and I won't run into anything. Like… nothing can stop us. Just open space."

"Free."

"Yes! Yes."

They stood there in the cold for a long while, just being together, listening to the pulse of traffic, the rush of the wind through the trees.

"It's a good day," Nine said, smiling. He felt as if he had reached a pivotal, vital moment in his life, a feeling that nothing could ever be the same again, and that it was all right, that he could do it, calmly and with poise – step into the next phase without fear, free of baggage. That they could be happy.

"Let's go away," Five said suddenly and yet not suddenly at all, as if he had been thinking the same thing as Nine, looking up at him with an intense expression that made Nine's insides burn and then freeze over. "Let's go away, together."

Nine spoke without hesitation, following effortlessly. "Where?"

"Anywhere. I don't care."

"What about college?" But Nine was thinking ahead, now, imagining them just driving over the horizon, gone, forever.

"I don't know, I don't know…" A bit of blood beaded up on the cut on his lip, and Nine smudged it away.

"Let's do it. Let's go. Once we graduate, let's go."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Really. You and me."

The smile that lit up on Five's face made it completely worth it, made heat pool in Nine's stomach. They kissed there, tenderly and deeply, outside of the church, and it felt so right, so right.

--

"Do you think it'll be this way forever?" Five asked, staring out the window of Six's house. Six was giggling over a joke Three had made, and Four was hogging the popcorn. Everyone had stopped watching _The Haunted Bedroom from Hades_ for a while, now.

Nine glanced at him and let out a soft, fluttering sigh. They would be graduating soon. His mother didn't know, would never know, what they had planned. "Probably not," he said honestly.

"You're probably right," Five said, his voice pitching lower. He looked at Nine sadly. "I'm going to miss it."

"Me too, man."

"Do you think…?"

"I don't know. I don't… I hope so, I'll try."

"I'll go anywhere with you. I don't care. I don't care."

"Don't say that, don't…"

"With you, forever, I love you…"

It was quiet. A bird swooped through the pale sky.

"It won't be this way forever," Nine repeated softly. "But it's good, isn't it? It's good."

"Yes, yes, it's good," Five said, not meeting Nine's gaze. "I just… It has to mean something. Everything. After all of that, the… It has to mean something, doesn't it?"

Nine didn't think so. The world was a cruel, cruel place. And it was also very sweet.

Five took out his lighter and flicked it on and off. Nine zipped and unzipped his hoodie.

Three leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of Six's mouth, making him squeak, and Four made a show of being jealous, but when he turned away he was smiling.

--

Nine would never forget the day after graduation, how clear the sunrise had been as they climbed into the minivan, shivering in the spring-tinted cold, the way the wind and air got chilly and wet before summer began to bloom. They had sat with the engine idling in the driveway for the better part of twenty minutes, just staring straight ahead, into the future opening up in front of them: unsure, dangerous, but _theirs_, a testament to their togetherness – a testament to the hardships they had endured – a testament to everything they had, and were, and would ever have, and would ever be.

Slowly, trembling, Five took Nine's hand in his own.

"I'm ready," he whispered.

They pulled out of the driveway and drove away, not speaking, just going. As they moved, the city swelled around them and shrank behind them and then was gone, forever gone. They plunged through the emptiness, the unknown, the infinite opportunity of youth, together.

The world turned and turned. Time slipped through the funnel of reality like sand, never stopping, and they, as people, were helpless but to be carried through it. They jerked along their strings like living ragdolls – and yet, most of all, they were alive.

They were alive.

-- **the end**

Happy Thanksgiving, guys! It's been a real ride... and I hope you enjoyed it. Some real blood sweat and tears went into this, haha.

I don't have a glorious ending speech, really. It's been fun hearing from you guys, and I hope you stay with me in fics to come. You're wonderful. Thank you. :3


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